


To Where You Are

by professorjjong



Category: SHINee
Genre: (non shinee character death), Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Cissexism, Drama, Funeral Scene, Grief, Infidelity, Kind of sort of on that last one?? hard to explain, Minor Character Death, Multi, Red String of Fate, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 10:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorjjong/pseuds/professorjjong
Summary: Jinki’s heart string leads to heaven.  Key shouldn’t be theirs: their happiness, their future, their everything. After all, Key belongs to someone else. (Red String of Fate AU)





	To Where You Are

**Author's Note:**

> ye i no i said i wouldnt write anymore fanfic but here i am. i love subverting common fic tropes so much i couldn’t stay away so i wrote a fic literally No One in fandom will read because of its trigger warnings and subject matter but i wrote it anyway. this takes place in a college town in massachusetts but since this is fanfiction i didnt bother to actually do any research and pick a town or a college so fanfiction 1 original work 0 step up ur game.

Jinki places their palm on Taeyeon’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Easy for you to say,” Taeyeon groans. One eyes snaps open. “Sorry.”

Jinki shrugs. “Don’t be, you’re right, anyway.” They wave their left hand about, the red string from their pinky, aimed upward, wriggling.

They’re seated together on Taeyeon’s maroon living room couch, Jinki snacking on the breakfast sandwich they bought on their way over, along with coffees and a matching sandwich for Taeyeon. She hasn’t touched anything.

“I’m nervous. Fuck.”

Jinki sips from their coffee. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Taeyeon reaches for her heart string, twists it around the fingers of her right hand. Her string, unlike Jinki’s, spins downward, toward the earth, to the floor of her apartment, along it, under her door, down the stairs, three blocks down the street and then five miles south on the nearest highway… and then Taeyeon had felt guilty and turned around. She isn’t supposed to follow the string, that isn’t her responsibility as the older half. Plus, it is technically illegal. If it can at all be prevented, halves aren’t supposed to meet each other until the younger of the two turns eighteen.

That day is today for Taeyeon. A day she had looked forward to since she was nine. On April 8th, eighteen years ago, Taeyeon’s heart string, which reached toward heaven just like Jinki’s, fell to the earth at 12:49 pm. The image is burned into their eyes: Taeyeon, her hair in pigtails, seated two rows in front of them, the red line of her string cutting the blackboard in half. Then, suddenly, it wasn’t anymore. It was in Taeyeon’s hands and she was crying and Jinki became the only student in their elementary school with a half in heaven.

Taeyeon, Jinki, and many other children are born with their heart strings reaching toward the sky. Taeyeon’s family had only become worried when she reached her fifth birthday and her string had not fallen, her parents convinced her half had been born and died before Taeyeon entered this world.

When Jinki was three weeks old, his string fell. Nine hours later, it again stretched itself heavenward. It happened in the middle of the night. No one had seen it happen. Jinki didn’t even cry.

“She could be here any second,” Taeyeon hisses. She looks toward the door. “How do I look?”

“Better than you usually do at nine am.” Usually, at nine am, her hair is a rat’s nest and she’s drooling onto the side of a pillow (or so Jinki assumes, considering her frequent 3 am texts). But now she’s dressed smartly in a blacksweater and an asymmetrical khaki skirt tied with a bow. Her hair, dyed a bluish gray, is pulled back into a messy bun while the bangs over her forehead are fluffed and combed.

“God, I’m so nervous.”

Jinki, finished with their sandwich, rolls the paper into a ball and tosses it onto the coffee table. Nailed it. “You’ve got to calm down, Tae. You don’t know when they’re going to show up. It could be now, sure, or it could be two days from now. They might be coming from Australia or something for all we know.”

Taeyeon inhales audibly. “A, she. I’m a lesbian, my soulmate is a girl. She. But, B, you’re right about everything else.” She rises from the couch and and wipes her sweaty palms on her skirt. “I’m going to go nervous pee.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Taeyeon turns, teetering toward her bathroom, but turns back after a few steps. “Thanks for being here. For me.”

Jinki smiles. “Of course. I want to be here for you.” They mean it.

“I know this must be hard for you…”

“I’m used to it,” they say. “I’ve had twenty-seven years to get used to it. You, on the other hand, have been waiting eighteen years for  _ this _ . I can’t imagine what that feels like.”

“I’ll be honest,” she begins with a laugh, “it feels awful.”

Once she is gone from their vision, Jinki pulls out their phone and opens their email. Two students from their recent American literature class have reached out to them about the paper due at midnight. They answer the questions curtly, as all the answers are covered in the rubric itself, and they’re not that nice of a professor. Not mean enough to get bad reviews (they need that teaching stipend to keep them afloat for their PhD), but not nice enough to answer any questions past ten am on the day a project is due.

They don’t address that one of the students referred to them as ‘ _ Mr.  _ Lee,’ not Mx..

A knock at the door draws Jinki, unthinking, to their feet. They’re still looking at their phone, moving mechanically toward the door, as they call out, “Hey, Tae? Are you expecting a package or—”

Something smacks into their chest, knocking the air from their lungs. “Oh my god! Oh my god!” It sounds like a girl. Like a little girl.

There’s a head of black hair buried into their chest and a woman standing in the hallway, only a step from the threshold. She’s probably in her early forties, her hair just beginning to gray around her temples. She’s looking up at Jinki with teary eyes and a smile that they swear they’ve only seen on TV shows.

Suddenly everything clicks and Jinki, realizing their arms are pinned to their side, looks the woman in the eyes and gives her a shrug, and then looks upward at their heart string where it presses against the ceiling.

Understanding falls over the woman’s face, darkening her eyes as she lunges forward and grabs the girl’s shoulder. “Sweetie, no. It’s not him. It’s—”

The girl releases Jinki, snapping back with such force she knocks into the woman, almost pushing her to the floor. The girl is just that: a girl. A teenager, lips wet with glossy pink, large brown eyes framed by artificial lashes, wearing an off-the-shoulder white dress covered in yellow sunflowers.

The girl raises her hand, staring at the heart string hanging limply from her left pinky. She looks up at once at Jinki then tugs her string. “I-I don’t get it. This is the place!”

“Right place, just the wrong person.” Jinki waves them both inside. “Taeyeon is in the bathroom. I’m sure she’ll be out in just a minute.”

The girl pales. “She?”

The woman’s grip tightens over the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t be rude, Junghee! Just follow the nice man inside.”

Jinki’s mouth dries like they’ve swallowed a rock. “I’m not a man. I’m nonbinary.” The woman blinks. “They, them, their… theirs… please.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman says. “You see, it’s been such a rough day. And how was I to tell…? You  _ look _ like such a handsome man, just the type of man my daughter has wanted as her half since she knew what one was.”

Jinki feels like their bones have doubled in weight. “I’m going to get Taeyeon.” They motion to the breakfast bar. “Have a seat. We’ll be right back.”

It’s hard for Jinki to avoid running to the bathroom.They have to turn a corner to get to the bathroom and feel just a bit of relief at knowing neither Junghee nor her mother can see them. They slam their palm flat on the bathroom door. “Tae?”

Taeyeon answers through the door with a stunned “What?”

“She’s here.”

A beat, then water running, and over it, just barely audible to Jinki, a whispered stream of explicatives. Jinki smacks their hand against the door, again.

“I know, I know!”

“I need to piss,” they lie. “Hurry it up.”

When Taeyeon finally opens the door, it’s obvious that she has redone her makeup, darkened her lids with navy blue, sharpened the arch of her brows. “See! I told you my half would be a girl! I fucking told you!”

Jinki can’t bring themself to say anything, only nods.

Taeyeon pulls at the too-long sleeves of her sweater. “Yeah, here we go.” She side-steps past Jinki toward the kitchen where Junghee and her mother are waiting, but Jinki doesn’t stay outside the bathroom long enough to hear even the beginning of their conversation. They lock the bathroom door behind them and turn on the sink, letting the rush of water fill their ears.

They inhale, exhale, wash their face with cold water.  _ I’m who I say I am. Just because I might look like a man doesn’t mean I am one. Just because I look like a man doesn’t mean I am one. I can look however I want to look and be whatever gender I am. I don’t have to be anything. I am Jinki. They, them, their, theirs. _

They repeat these phrases like a mantra until the knots in their stomach have finally loosened. They’re rattled still and dying for booze, for slippery and careless drunkenness, but they can’t just run home yet. Do they even have alcohol at home? No, no they drank the last of their wine last night and haven’t had any hard alcohol since the party a few weeks back when Taeyeon got so drunk she vomited on one of her houseplants and Jinki, compassionate, got equally ill.

Jinki turns off the faucet and listens to the droplets of water fall from their hair and  _ clink  _ on the porcelain sink. Through the walls of the bathroom they can hear faint conversation, make out barely the roughness of Taeyoen’s voice. _ _

_I’ve got to grow the fuck up and get out there. They look at themself in the mirror._ _Jinki looks at themself in the mirror. Jinki raises their hand to the hand towel and uses it to dry out their hair. They they they their their they their theirs them their them their they. _

Jinki straightens, bites their lip, and leaves the bathroom. Junghee’s mom seems to be gone. Junghee and Taeyon are seated together on the breakfast bar. Once Jinki enters the room, both women (well, one woman and one girl) turn to them.

Junghee, despite the weakness in her voice, is the first to speak up. “S-sorry. For my mom. And… I’m sorry, too. For assuming. And for hugging you.”

Jinki nods, silent.

Taeyeon’s jaw is clenched. Her fingers squeeze the wooden seat under her.

“Tae?” Taeyeon’s eyes refocus, then shift toward Jinki. “I, erm, should leave you alone, right?”

Taeyeon’s eyes say no but she opens her lips: “Oh, of course! Junghee and I… well, we have to talk about, don’t we?” Junghee bows her head in an awkward nod. Taeyeon jumps off the seat. She wraps Jinki in her arms. “Thank you. For coming.”

They nod. “Of course. Anytime.”

“I’ll call you, okay?”

Again, they nod, then leave Taeyeon’s apartment. It’s odd to not see Taeyeon’s heart string in the hallway, squeezing its way beneath her door. There’s three other strings stretched across the linoleum from her neighbor’s, and then Jinki’s pressed against the stucco ceiling. They grip their string with one hand and give it a firm tug, but, aside from retracting slightly from the ceiling, it doesn’t budge.

* * *

“G-and-T?” Minho asks, leaning over the bar as Jinki approaches and slides onto a cushioned stool.

“Three.”

Minho snorts in reply but, as he mixes up the drink, asks “You okay, Jinks?”

“I’ve been better.” Jinki rests their chin in their hands.

“Papers were that bad?”

“Yes and no.” Jinki has spent the last few hours grading papers for their classes, but their headache and mood have remained unchanged since they left Taeyeon’s apartment this morning. “Taeyeon’s half turned eighteen today.”

Minho places a bar napkin and the glass on the bar in front of Jinki. “How did that go?”

“About as well as you’d imagine.”

“So it’s a dude?”

“A straight girl, actually.”

Minho hums. “Well, she can always figure herself out. Changmin and I were both inconsolable, really, when we met for the first time. I mean, he didn’t show it, and I tried to hide it too, but it wasn’t fun.”

“It’s weird. She’s just a kid.” Jinki takes a sip and recoils. Fucking strong. Minho reads people better than he lets on. “How much older is Changmin than you?”

“Three years. So when we met he was twenty-one.”

“Was it weird?”

Minho shrugs. “I mean, it wasn’t a surprise, I guess. I knew he was older than me, obviously, and the whole gender thing really overshadowed everything else. I just went home wondering why in the hell my half was a guy. Then, six months later, I’m sucking him off in the men’s locker room.”

“TMI, Min.”

Minho chuckles. “All I’m saying is that it will work out, you know? The strings aren’t wrong. My heart is connected to Changmin’s, gender doesn’t even play a role. I’m in love with him and he’s in love with me. That’s what matters.” 

Jinki stays silent.

Cue Minho: “Sorry.”

Jinki downs everything left in their glass. “I’m used to it. Can you get me another?”

“I’ll do you better.” Minho puts two shot glasses on the mat, fills them with tequila and pushes one to Jinki with a salt shaker and half a lime. “On the house.”

They take the shot together, Jinki’s throat stinging as the alcohol goes down. It takes them a few extra seconds to compose themself, wiping lime juice from their chin with the back of their hand. “I’m gonna need a lot more where that came from.”

* * *

It doesn’t take a lot for Jinki to get totally plastered. Normally it does, but even the most experienced and gifted drinker will find themself hammered much sooner than they’d expect if they’re drinking on an empty stomach. Which Jinki, who hasn’t eaten since breakfast, is. Three gin and tonics and four shots and they’re fading in and out of consciousness.

“I need to pee.”

“You need to go home.” They can just barely make out Minho’s voice over the chatter of other customers.

“I’m just going to go to the bathroom, Min. Just the bathroom. I’ll be back! Don’t worry about me.” Jinki pushes themself from the stool and manages to stand on their feet without falling. They rest a hand on the stool as they wait until the world stops spinning, then set off, one foot in front of the other, in the direction of the bathrooms.

Minho’s bar doesn’t have gender neutral bathrooms (the fucking bastard) so Jinki slides into the men’s. They’re more confident in his ability to piss in a urinal while drunk rather than a toilet while standing. Plus, even drunk, they can’t handle the stares.

In front of one urinal, they unzip their pants and press one hand against the wall to keep steady. The trek to the sink afterward is a dangerous one, as they almost trip on their own feet. They look in the mirror and think:  _ Jinki. They’re washing their hands. Big hands. I never realized my, er, they, no, their hands were so big. Meaty. _

It’s once they’re out, however, that someone collides with their shoulder and they hit the ground.

“Shit, shit, are you okay?”

Jinki nods, reassessing their surroundings. They’re on the floor, back against the wall, legs splayed out in front, and a hand is squeezing their shoulder. There’s someone in front of them. The bar light is poor and it takes too much energy for Jinki to keep their eyes open long enough to properly take in the features of this person.

“Yeah I’m fine. I’m just drunk, that’s all.”

“I can tell. That you’re drunk, I me—”

“Who... who are you?”

“I’m Key. He/him pronouns, please.” He relaxes his grip on Jinki’s shoulder. “Did you hit your head when I bumped into you?”

“Nah my head’s just fine, Key. Key.” 

“That’s my name alright,” the man sighs. “You still know yours, right?”

“Course, course. I’m Jinks. Jinki.”

“You didn’t hit your head, right?”

Jinki closes his eyes. “Nah, nah, I told you I didn’t. I’m fine, just drunk. So drunk. Super drunk.”

“I can tell. Where do you live?”

Jinki blacks out.

* * *

The next day, a Sunday, Jinki is the most hungover they’ve ever been in their life. They finally get out of bed after one pm and take a long and hot shower that leaves their skin dry and itchy then flop back into bed. Slipping in and out of consciousness, heart pounding in their head, they make the decision to ignore all of the texts and phone calls they’ve received since the previous night and order take-out. They sleep until it arrives, then place the styrofoam container on their lap and watch youtube videos until they let themself look at the waiting texts from Taeyeon.

7:02 pm (They saw this one earlier, as it came before they even went to the bar)

“Well. That was… interesting. We talked and then went out to lunch together, just the two of us, then her mom came back and the three of us talked some more. They left about an hour or two ago. I needed some time to unwind before I texted you. Let me know when you’re able to talk.”

A missed call a half hour later, then another forty-five minutes after that.

9:44 pm

“??? What’s up, dude?”

10:32 pm

“Don’t tell me your at Minho’s.”

11:02 pm

“I just texted Minho. Dude, I wish I could join you, but Junghee and I are doing breakfast tomorrow morning… ”

12:28 pm

“Aaaaand according to Minho now you’re super fucking plastered. Why aren’t you drunk texting me? I’m hurt. I love your drunk texts.”

1:09 am

“Minho called me and asked me to come get you and I know you won’t read this but I just thought I would text you anyway on the off chance you finally look at your phone. I should be there in twenty.”

1:35 am

“So I’m at Minho’s and I’ve been told that you left?? With a guy?? I can’t believe it. I’m the one who should get laid tonight not you! Oh my god.”

1:36 am

“I mean, not in actuality. Junghee is a kid. You know what I mean. According to custom, I should be getting laid, but not in reality. I don’t want to fuck a kid. Anyway, use protection.”

Jinki presses their phone to their chest, struggling to piece together their memories from the night before. They remember bumping into someone, but nothing between then and when they woke up. Did they get fucked? They did wake up naked, with their clothes strewn about, but they also woke up alone.

They push themselves onto their elbows and lean to open the drawer of their nightstand. The lube and box of condoms are situated exactly as they remember, not like drunken hands had groped for them in the heady escalation of sex.

5:04 pm

“I have the worst hangover. Ever. And no I don’t think I got laid, but I honestly don’t remember. I’m guessing he just dropped me off at home. How did the breakfast go?”

5:07 pm

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow during lunch, it’s too much for text. And I’m not surprised you don’t remember. According to Minho you were fucking out of it.”

5:09 pm

“I still am. Talk to you tomorrow.”

* * *

It’s not until the next morning, as Jinki leaves the apartment for their 11 am class, that they realize their apartment key is missing. It belongs in a little ceramic bowl beside the front door, next to his wallet, but it’s not there. They hiss a curse under their breath and take a few steps into their bedroom before they realize that they really don’t have the time for this.  _ Fuck _ . Snatching the spare key from a kitchen drawer, they lock the door behind them and make their way to campus.

The class goes by normally and quickly enough, as well as the one after. Teaching isn’t Jinki’s true passion in life (that’s literature) but they don’t mind it. They teach at the introductory level within the English major so, for the most part, their students are interested in reading, some in writing, and they’re excited to express their ideas and keep the class rolling on their own. The fact that Jinki doesn’t teach in the early morning doesn’t hurt, either.

Taeyeon’s day is longer and more hectic than Jinki’s and she doesn’t have a break long enough for lunch until three, so Jinki’s placed their open office hours in the two hour break between class and lunch. Generally, no one comes unless there’s a paper that’s just been graded or one that’s due soon, so they use the time as a student rather than a teacher, expanding on research for their dissertation and editing the last segment their advisor has marked up.

A half hour passes like this, Jinki focused on their work so intensely they scarcely notice when someone enters the grad student office. Their eyes scan the room, land on Jinki, and then a smile spreads on their face. They stride confidently toward Jinki and pause beside their desk.

They’re at least four years younger than Jinki, maybe more, with high cheekbones and narrow eyes. A scar forks one of their eyebrows, the same side of their face where an askew smile presses against their cheeks. They’re dressed casually in a Metallica shirt they obviously bought from a thrift store and then modified, cutting off the sleeves and slicing down from the collar for about an inch, black jeans and a leather messenger bag across their shoulder. “Jinki, right?”

Jinki blinks. “Yes. Are you looking for me?”

“Yeah.” They pause, reach a hand into their jean pockets—their left hand, heart string dancing as its pulled up from the ground—, dig around for a bit, and produce Jinki’s apartment key.

Jinki takes the key, giving it a long look. “How did you get this?”

“You gave it to me Saturday night. You were too drunk to open the door yourself. I think I shoved it in my pocket and forgot about it. I found it when I was doing laundry the next day.”

“Oh.” Jinki struggles to remember what happened that night, but, as expected, so many hours are consumed by pure blackness. “I think, um, we—I bumped into you, right?”

“Yeah. You were already pretty drunk by that point.”

Jinki ignores the comment and the smug smile that appears on the other’s face. “You’re…?”

“Key,” they say, and then frown. “I mean, that’s my name. And what I’m giving to you. But it’s also my name.”

“Right. Key.”

“He/him pronouns.”

Jinki nods. “I remember now. Bumping into you, I mean. But nothing after that.”

Key glances about the room and points at one of the desk chairs set aside for students to use. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Oh, no, go ahead.” Jinki watches as he grabs the chair with a single hand and slides it not across from Jinki, on the opposite side of their desk, but beside them. Close. He straddles it and leans over its back. He’s so close Jinki can clearly make out the smallest freckle on his right cheek. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Minho. You weren’t even able to tell me where you lived, so I went to Minho and got your address from him and took you home. He told me you taught here, too, and it was pretty easy to track you down from there.”

“You know Minho?”

Key nods. “He’s an old friend of mine. We went to high school together.”

“I see.” If they’re high school friends, Key is probably the same age (twenty-four) or at least close. They clear their throat. “Thank you for taking care of me. I usually have a much higher tolerance than that. I got carried away.”

“It happens. Rough day?”

Jinki has no desire to spill his feelings out to this stranger, but manages a tight-lipped “you could say that.”

Key hums. “We all have rough days. And everyone drinks too much every once in a while. Just don’t make a habit of it, okay?” His tone is teasing and bordering on flirtatious.

Jinki doesn’t hold back. “Are you hitting on me?”

“Yeah,” Key says with a laugh. “Are you into it?”

Jinki rests their left hand on the desk, heart string a red flash cutting upward, and waits for Key to say something.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Key puts his own hand on the desk, his string sagging to and across the floor. “Do  _ you  _ have a problem with this?” 

Jinki has never been asked this before; usually, and for obvious reasons, it’s the other way around. “No. You’re the one who might have something to lose. That’s all I’m saying.”

“The only thing I might lose is the chance to see you again, actually.”

Jinki’s heart suddenly feels too large for their chest, but they manage to collect themself quickly. “So your half is okay with this? Because I’m not going to be asking you every step of the way if you’re sure. I’m not interested if you’re going to feel guilty and back out.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Key stands. “How does tonight sound? 9 pm?”

“Sure.” It’s early enough that Jinki will probably be able to leave Key’s place and sleep properly at their own house, which they always appreciate.

“Minho already gave me your number. I’ll text you the address.”

* * *

“So you didn’t get laid last night, but you  _ are  _ getting laid tonight. That’s what you’re telling me?”

Taeyeon is mostly joking, but her spoon slides against the porcelain bowl she’s eating her soup from with an high-pitched squeal.

“Sound about right,” Jinki says. “He hasn’t texted me yet, but it’s only been an hour or so since we talked.”

Taeyeon sighs. “And here I am, with a teenaged half who is also, to top it all off, straight. Isn’t it amazing? My luck? Just fucking amazing.”

“I figured she was straight, guessing from her reaction earlier.”

“Well, you weren’t wrong.” Taeyeon puts down her spoon. “She told me what happened, that she hugged you and called you a man… she was honestly sorry.”

“It’s fine. I should be used to it.”

“Jin—”

“Anyway,” Jinki interrupts. “What’s next for you and Junghee?”

“She lives about two hours away, so we talked a bit about trying to meet up, but it’s crunch time for both of us right now, since she’s a graduating high schooler and my school year is also almost over. So as of right now there’s no solid plan.”

“Have you guys talked since yesterday?”

“We exchanged phone numbers, obviously, but no we haven’t talked.” Taeyeon leans back in her chair. “It’s just so fucking awkward, you know? Like, here’s the love of your life! Yeah she’s basically a fetus and she’s not into girls, but you need to fall in love with her right now! Love each other!”

Jinki’s brow furrows. “Is someone really acting like that?”

“Her mom,” Taeyeon whines in that same tone of voice she used to adopt when she too was a teenage girl. “She’s so fucking persistent! She wants us to have a sleepover. A sleepover, Jinki. She used that exact word. I was half expecting her to start recommending dental dams or something!”

“Ew. How much she wants you to have sex with her daughter, I mean, not safe oral sex.”

“Safe sex is great.”

“Yes, yes it is.”

“You’re going to be having some of that tonight.”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Lucky bitch.”

* * *

When Key finally sends Jinki an address at around 8 pm, they find themself momentarily stumped when they find, following a Google search, that the address belongs to a bar rather than an apartment building or some other residence. It’s a bit of an upscale place for a college town, with very, very boozy cocktails and tubes of glowing neon lining the underside of the bar and tables, according to the images. 

Not to mention that it’s a bit out of the way, actually. Over a half hour outside of the college town where Jinki lives. If this Key guy just wants to get buzzed before sex, why not just have them meet up at Minho’s bar, knock back a few, and then walk to Jinki’s place? He even knows where it is already.

Jinki shrugs it away. Maybe he was just embarrassed about Minho potentially being there. Either way, he’s Jinki’s type.

Jinki isn’t even sure if they have a type, but maybe Key is it. He’s slender, isn’t afriad of sticking out (his outfit said as much) and clearly doesn’t give a fuck about gender. Well, maybe he does, their only discussion coming even close to the topic being Key’s pronouns, which might not mean a thing at all. But his appearance seems to lean toward feminine if you squint one eye and masculine if you squint the other.

It’s like there’s a line that Jinki has never seen before, but Key is already straddling it—no, not that. Like he’s wading in an area that’s not colorless or gray in ambiguity but somehow a hundred things all at once. All with names and flavors and textures, all unique.

Jinki thinks about Key in the Lyft on the way to the bar, wondering what he’ll be wearing. The same outfit as before, like Jinki? Or will he have changed? What will he look like without anything on?

Jinki shakes the thought from his head. There will be more than enough time to think about—and see—Key naked in a less public setting.

The bar is just what it looks like online, except Key is sitting on a stool in front of a small, raised table, wearing the same pair of jeans but replacing his torn top with a neat navy sweater. They embrace, Jinki sits opposite him, and they both order their cocktails.

“Is this your regular place?” Jinki asks.

“Kind of, but not really. I live closer to this one, but I prefer to go to Minho’s since I don’t know many people in the area aside from him. I just thought you might rather be here, since it’s farther from the university so there’s not as many students…”

Jinki tries to hide their surprise. “That’s very considerate of you. Usually I try to keep myself composed where students might see me.” 

“Saturday was a real bad day for you, huh?”

“Yes,” Jinki breathes. The waiter arrives with their drinks and asks if they’d like anything else. Key, without consulting neither the menu nor Jinki, orders artichoke dip. “Do you want to eat here?”

“The artichoke dip is delicious. Trust me.”

Jinki doesn’t want to say that they don’t trust Key, but they’re certainly more confused. Chips and dip, a relatively expensive bar, Key all dressed up. A bad taste rises in Jinki’s mouth.

“So,” Key begins, stirring his drink, lemon yellow and unnamable. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you already know?”

“Let’s see. Your name is Lee Jinki. They/them. You’re a PhD candidate in literature. You’re… twenty-eight?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Key nods. “And that’s all that Minho’s told me about you.”

“You asked Minho about me?”

“Yeah. I went back to the bar after I dropped you off and he gave me the rundown and your number.”

“What about you then? I mean, I know nothing about you. Except that you’re Minho’s friend and you’ve been to my apartment.”

Key hums, thinking. “I’m about to turn twenty-four. I spent three years working after I graduated high school, then three traveling. I worked while I was travelling, too, mostly informally. I wrote a few articles for travel blogs, house-sitted for other writers… I came back to the US only a few weeks ago. I decided that if I really wanted to write and get paid for it, I should probably get some degrees under my belt.”

“Why not just take classes online? Why come all the way back to your hometown?”

“I had another reason.” The chips arrive. “Try it, it’s really good.”

Jinki drops the subject. Not like they don’t have stuff they’d rather not talk about.

* * *

The rest of the night passes well enough. Well enough that when it’s been two hours Jinki is shocked that there hasn’t been a lull in their conversation, which sways to movies, writing, travel (Jinki has never left Massachusetts in their life, while Key is the exact opposite) and then back again. Well enough that Jinki picks up the tab and agrees, their heart pounding in their chest, to walk Key home.

Key lives in a house he shares with a few grad students he met through Minho or other high school friends. It’s an older style house with a wooden bench on the porch, a window shining behind it. They sit, close to each other, Key’s heat noticeable even through his clothes. His sweater, his jeans, Jinki’s hand on his knee, then his thigh.

Key smiles, his cheeks growing pink.

“Is this okay?” Jinki asks.

“Yeah.” Key leans toward them, his breath fire over Jinki’s neck for a moment, and then over their lips. “Okay if I kiss you?”

Jinki squeezes Key’s thigh. “Yeah.”

It’s the kind of kiss that makes Jinki curl their back, as though trying to escape the sensations firing off in the base of their spine. Key curves a hand around their torso, pulling them closer as he pushes his tongue in.

When Key ends the kiss, he’s smiling. “Am I good kisser?”

“Fuck yes. Why don’t you keep doing it?”

“I just like positive reinforcement,” he says. He curves a hand around Jinki’s jaw and lets Jinki come to him this time.

Jinki’s getting worked up. Their mouth is moving on its own, sliding against Key’s lips, their cock stiffening.

Can’t Key just  _ touch  _ them already?

They ease their hand down Key’s side to where a stripe of skin is showing under the hem of his sweater. They press their hand against the skin and Key gasps. He straightens, Jinki’s hands falling from his frame.

“Sorry,” he says with a chuckle. “I got a bit carried away.”

_ Was that too fast? _

“I don’t put out on the first date. No matter how cute you might be.”

Jinki goes cold. “W-what?”

Key doesn’t understand. He stands, laughing. “I’ll text you tomorrow. I don’t have any strict rules about date number two.” He kisses Jinki, still stunned, on the cheek. “I had fun. You’re fun.”

He pulls his keys from his jeans pocket, opens the front door and walks inside. The lock clicks.

Jinki can’t help themself as they stand and walk to the door. They look down at the single heart string lying perpendicular to the wooden slats, then up where his own string bends sharply against the roof of the patio.

* * *

Jinki has never been on a date before. For obvious reasons.

Their half is dead, after all. There’s no one for them to date.

That’s not to say that everyone is faithful to their halves, or that everyone is in a monogamous relationship.

Platonic, desperate, secretive, horny sex. 

They’ve had a lot of that.

_ My wife is pregnant and won’t let me touch her and I just, fuck, I need to fuck. _

_ He’s a boring lay. Vanilla. I bet you can show me a better time, hmm? _

_ Just kiss me. Fuck, Jinki. Can I suck your dick? I want to suck your dick and then you can fuck my ass right against this wall. Take off your pants. _

Sometimes they’re in the heat of it, slipping off someone’s bra and taking a nipple between their lips. Then hands push them away, whispered words of  _ I’m sorry I can’t do this  _ or  _ no, this isn’t right _ or, once,  _ the fuck is wrong with you? You should have stopped me!  _

There was a threesome which began with what was, for lack of a better words, an interview. A couple interested in expanding into a thruple. The two women probably hadn’t intended for things to turn so rapidly to the explicit, but Jinki couldn’t handle it, their gazes, their hands, their shared string lying across both of their laps. Maybe it was supposed to be a date, but Jinki hated sitting across from them so damn much. Being in bed with them was easier, so they insisted on testing their “sexual capability” and got their clothes off.

Obviously, Jinki never got back in contact with the couple.

But, at twenty-seven, what Jinki thought would be a one-night stand in a long, long string of one-night stands, became, without their consent, their first first date.

* * *

Key doesn’t keep his promise. He one-ups himself, standing in front of the shared post-graduate teachers office with two Coca-Colas in his hand when Jinki heads to their desk for their open office hours.

Key, wearing a white tee and wide-legged trousers, notices Jinki immediately. He turns his head to Jinki, with a sheepish smile. “The machine accidentally gave me two. My next class is in this building a half hour from now, so I thought it’d be nice to kill this time together.” He holds out a can of soda and Jinki, unthinking, takes it.

“Can we sit down at your desk?”

Jinki looks over Key’s shoulder, scanning the room. Empty. “Uh, yeah, sure. After you.”

“Cool.”

They sit and, again, Key takes the initiative of moving the chair from across Jinki’s desk to beside them. Next to each other, despite even the bright light of the office, Jinki is brought back to last night, on the bench. Key’s face in their hands, cheekbones under their thumbs, mouth soft against theirs.

“Like what you see?” Key is smiling devilishly. Jinki must have been staring.

They clear their throat. “I, um, need to talk to you.”

“About what?” His soda opens with a  _ crack _ .

“Last night.”

“What about last night?”

“I didn’t know…”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That it was a date. I didn’t know that you were asking me out on a date.”

Key’s expressions changes to one of almost comical confusion. “Uh, what did you think it was? You even made the first move, putting your hand on my knee.”

“You invited me to your house before that.” Jinki shakes their head. “But that’s not what matters. I mean, I just… I think there must have been a misunderstanding.”

“So what did you think it was?”

Jinki swipes their hand over the desk. “I just thought we would sleep together and that would be it.”

“Like a one night stand?”

“Basically.”

Key leans back in his chair. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, I guess. This is the first time my earnest romantic interest in someone has been misinterpreted as purely sexual and inherently fleeting.”

“I’m sorry. I just don’t have much experience with dating. Sex, yes, but dating not so much.”

“What do you mean?”

They shrug. “I’ve… never been on a date before.”

Key’s voice is heavy with surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. My half died before we could meet.”

“But what about middle or high school? You never went on any fake dates just for the hell of it?” Jinki shakes their head. “Never? Are you serious?”

“Never.”

“O-okay, alright. So, until last night you’ve  _ only _ had one night stands?”

“There’s been two… no, three people I had a friends-with-benefits deal with, I guess. But that was when I was an undergrad. Since then, just meet and fucks, basically.” They place their left hand flat against their desk. “People see me, with my heart string like this, and they think I’m a no-strings-attached, pun intended, lay. I don’t have anyone to worry about finding me out or sneaking around. We can do whatever and then go our own ways.”

“Sorry, I know it’s weird to be discussing your sexual history with me when we’ve only been on one date.”

“It’s weird. But I feel bad for misinterpreting you. I owe you an explanation.”

A glint appears in Key’s eye. He takes a sip from his drink. “You feel bad…”

“Yes?”

“Does that mean you like me?”

All the air leaves Jinki’s lungs. “Wh-what, are we five?”

“You like me. You had fun on our date.” Key leans forward. “Go out with me again. Friday night. For our  _ second _ date.”

“Your half is okay with this?”

“You asked me that yesterday.”

“I know, but it’s different for me this time. Because this is romantic, I want to ask you again: is your half okay with this, or are you sure you’re okay with going behind their back?”

“Don’t worry about him,” he says. “Are you okay with going on a date with me?”

Again, he has turned the question back to Jinki, who says “Yes.”

* * *

They go out for Greek food, which may not be the sexiest of the foods but Key pronounces the words on the menu with confidence and expertise. “I lived in Greece for six months,” he says when the waiter asks. “Busking tables at a friend’s family’s restaurant.”

This time Jinki arrives at the restaurant first, seating themself at a table for two and waiting for Key to arrive. They feel awkward, dressed in a plaid button-down with a plain black tee underneath and even more so when Key walks in looking effortless yet stunning in an oversized sweatshirt and high-top canvas shoes he’s clearly painted himself with the colors of the trans pride flag.

“Stand up,” says Key, then he embraces Jinki. “That’s how you greet people before a date.”

Jinki wishes Key had kissed them, too, but says nothing.

When they’ve finished eating and leave the restaurant, it’s a bit after 10pm. “I’d, um, love to get a cup of coffee with you, but I actually have a big day tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

Key sighs. “Sorry. Saturdays are a bad day for me, but I have night classes every day of the week except Monday and Friday.”

“That’s okay. Are you a morning person? I don’t teach until mid- to late-afternoon most days, so we could grab coffee together, if that would be easier.”

A smile pulls at Key’s lips. “Why, Jinki, are you asking me out on a third date?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, if you are, why don’t you text me then?”

“Sure.”

The restaurant is close enough that Jinki can walk home, but they follow Key to his car, and lean over the door. “Text me, okay?”

“I will,” Jinki promises.

* * *

Turns out, spending two nights and part of their office hours with Key has set Jinki behind on grading, responding to student emails, and their dissertation. Saturday is spent in a blur, first with e-mails, then grading, some brown alcohol (enough to renew their spirits, pun intended) and then, giving up on working on their dissertation, they flop onto the couch and open up a book.

Only a few pages in, they pick up their phone.

Still no response from Key even though Jinki sent a text to them at two and it’s now past nine.

Though it’s their first foray into romance, Jinki knows better than to be oppressive. Key is a grown-ass adult, just like Jinki, and both are entitled to their own privacy and free time. Especially when they’re just goofing around, really. Not “dating” yet.

Or are they?

The hell does “dating” even mean?

Rising from their desk, Jinki charges into their bathroom. Just for a neutral space: one where they can shut the door and look only at their reflection staring back at them.

_ Jinki doesn’t know if they’re dating Key. They don’t know that yet. Yet? Why  _ yet _ ? Is there going to be more? Do I want to see Key again? _

_ Yes, fuck yes I want to keep seeing Key. _

* * *

Key texts him back on Sunday and they set a coffee date for Tuesday morning. Then a second the next day.

Jinki loves hearing about Key’s trips. It’s like the whole world is tattooed on the back of his hands.

“I was lucky. I didn’t make a lot working right out of high school, just enough to keep me afloat, but my grandmother paid for my trips. Every time I got tired of one place, or I wasn’t able to find work for a while, she wired me money.”

“Wow. That’s… really nice of her.”

“Yep. She kept me funded for years.” He picks at the plastic top to his coffee. “She died a few months ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He inhales audibly through his nose. “Yeah it, um, sucked. A lot. I came home for the funeral then decided I should stay for a bit. Get my degrees. The world will always be out there, you know? But for now I think I should be here. I think the world needs me to be here.”

“The world?”

He shrugs. “Or someone. I’m just gonna be here for a while.”

* * *

Taeyeon and Jinki meet up for lunch at the campus Chipotle on Thursday.

“I can’t believe that you and Key aren’t even halves and your relationship is infinitely easier than me and Junghee’s.”

“Easy for you to say,” says Jinki.

Taeyeon groans. “You don’t know what it’s like, Jinks.”

“It’s true, I don’t.” Jinki shovels a spoonful of burrito (in bowl form) into their mouth.

“She’s not a bad girl, really, she’s not. A little overly excitable, a little nervous and emotional, but she’s just reminds me of a student I might have. Like a little freshman.”

“Well, she is eighteen.”

“Actually, she reminds me of myself when I was her age. She’s bitter about the world.”

“Really? I didn’t get that impression at all.”

“She tries to hide it, and she’s good at it, but I can sense it now. I’ve talked to her enough to know that she doesn’t like her lot in life. And not just the fact that I’m her half, I mean. That’s part of it, but I think she’s got a long list of things to be bitter about. Or at least things she thinks she should be bitter about.”

“You were bitter as a teen?”

Taeyeon makes a face. “Yeah, duh. Do you not remember when I  _ ran away _ from home?” She bends her fingers into air quotes. “I drove to your place at, like, midnight and stayed in your basement for over a week because I hated my mom so much.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember.”

“I think I’m getting hopeful again. In halves. In the fact that she is my half.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Like, I dunno. Yeah she’s a kid  _ right now _ , but she won’t always be one. One day she’ll be old enough to make her own decisions, old enough that it won’t feel so weird and gross, honestly, to think of her as my half. And she can always realize that she’s gay, or bi or pan or whatever word she wants to use to describe herself. It can always work out.”

Jinki nods, numb. “Yeah. It can.”

“It’s meant to work out,” Taeyeon says, as though to herself. “We’re halves, after all. It’s fate.”

* * *

“You’ve never told me about your dissertation.”

“Well, it’s not that interesting.”

Key is lying across Jinki’s couch, head in their lap. He frowns. “No way that’s true.”

“It’s about trans representation in American literature in the past hundred years.”

“And you’d think that wouldn’t be interesting to  _ me _ ?”

“I mean, a lot of it isn’t blatantly trans. It’s not a new concept, but… it is, at the same time. Our modern conception of it.” Jinki scratches their temple. “So much of my research is just trying to pick apart the actions and behaviors of characters, or tones of a novel, and trying to build an argument by making connections to other works I, at least, think are gender non-confomring in some way or another.”

Key closes his eyes. He’s so relaxed, like he’s sleeping. “I wonder what I’ll write someday.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in fiction.”

“Not really. But I don’t think anything interesting has happened to me, so I don’t think I could seriously work in non-fiction, and I have no interest in journalism.”

“Key, you’ve traveled more than ninety-percent of people your age. You’ve done more and seen more than I could ever dream of. You have tons to write about.”

“I don’t think so,” he says. He lifts his arm, rests it over his eyes. “I just ran away from my problems for a few years. If anything, all that time away, I was moving backward. I was losing things, memories, experiences I would have had if I was here. Experiences I, Key, should have had. Moments I should have been here for.”

Jinki doesn’t understand. “But what about what happened to you when you were gone? Does that just not exist? Did it go away like you forgot about it, or like it was a dream?”

“No, it wasn’t anything like that. It’s more like I hit pause on myself without even knowing. When I came back, everything had fucking changed and I got left behind. I’m still that fucking kid, even though I’m not. Even though the time I spent away was  _ real  _ and I grew up and changed there as I would have anywhere else. It’s like I didn’t grow in any of the right ways.” Key moves his hand, looks directly at Jinki, staring down at him. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never left anything. I was born an hour away from here. Taeyeon has been my only friend since I was young. I never changed my name.”

“You changed your pronouns.”

“I… not really. No one listens to me, anyway. I got three emails from students this week addressing me as ‘Mr. Lee’ when I’ve specifically asked for Mx., or to just be called Jinki.”

Key pauses. “Why haven’t you ever left Massachusetts? Moved away?”

“I don’t know,” Jinki says after a pause. “I could have, I guess. I could have gone somewhere else for college, or postgraduate. I’ve even been offered to travel abroad with students for classes over summer or winter breaks. But I always say no.”

“Are you scared of leaving?”

“No,” Jinki lies.

Jinki thinks they’ll turn to dust if they try to change.

* * *

The next Monday Jinki and Key have sex for the first time. It starts on the couch of Jinki’s apartment, when the movie they are watching takes a turn for the boring and they start making out. Then they start losing their clothes and, eventually, fall into bed.

It’s not the kind of sex either are really in the mood for, as Key wants to fuck and Jinki wants to get fucked but they don’t have a strap-on. But it’s nice. Jinki likes Key’s fingers, long but thin. They like his moans, the gasps pulled from his lips when Jinki touches him in just the right way. They like Key’s observation, how his eyes move over Jinki’s body like he’s studying it, like he’s going to sketch it out later.

* * *

“Tell me something.”

“Hm?” Key asks. He’s chopping a pepper for the dinner he and Jinki are making together in Jinki’s apartment. The knife beats rhythmically against the cutting board. “About what?”

“Something I don’t know about.”

Key snorts. “Well that’s easy. You don’t know a lot of things.” He deftly avoids Jinki’s teasing elbow and tosses the sliced pepper into the frying pan with the other vegetables. “You’re a small town, New England nerd.”

“Then tell me about the big city.”

“New York? You haven’t been to New York?”

“Nah I’ve been, but only for day trips. And I’ve been to Chicago and Seattle too but only for conferences or stuff like that, so I basically arrived and then left within seventy-two hours maximum. Pass me the pepper grinder, would you?”

“Here. And I’m a total city boy.”

“Are you really?”

“Definitely.” Key says, leaning against the counter. “I mean, it’s not like I hate it here or anything. There’s just stuff you only realize if you’re in a big city, you know? People might say that we only understand mankind out in the wilderness or whatever, but I think I found the meaning of life in big cities.”

Jinki’s brow furrows. “The meaning of life?”

“Yeah.”

“Forty-two?”

Key blinks. “What?”

“Nothing,” says Jinki.

Folding his arms over his chest, Key inhales. There’s a pause before he speaks. “When you were in New York or Chicago, did you ever feel like you could just… stop?”

“Stop?”

“Yeah. Physically stop. Like you could stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk and people would just go around you like you weren’t even there. Like it didn’t matter what you were doing or who you were.”

Jinki thinks for a minute. “I guess. I felt small, insignificant.”

“Nah, that’s not right,” Key says, frowning. “It’s not that you’re small. It’s that in a group of people, you realize how… how  _ easy  _ your role is.”

Jinki adds the tomato puree to the pan. “And what does that have to do with being able to stop in the middle of the street?”

“Because everyone else is aware of it, too. We’re all gears powering a clock, okay? We all have to move in very specific ways in order for this clock to keep ticking. And maybe your job, as a little gear in this clock, is to stand still in the sidewalk for a second.”

“And everyone understands that?”

Key shrugs. “Well, in New York mostly. In some other cities you’ll definitely get yelled at for standing still but that’s only part of it. The other part is that being in a place with so many people, you realize that you can be anything. You can be any gear you want to be. You can be bright green. You can sing as you turn. You can go in the opposite direction of everyone else—and it’s meant to be that way.

“Because no matter what type of gear you are or choose to be, the clock keeps moving forward. The city goes on.”

* * *

“Oh fuck you’re here just in time.”

Taeyeon is frazzled. Clearly: her white blouse is buttoned incorrectly, one leg of her black trousers is bunched around the knee, and way too much hair is loose from her high ponytail. She urges Jinki into her apartment.

“Uh, you’re dressed up,” says Jinki, who’s in just a tee.

“Yeah, I kinda lied.” Taeyeon retreats to their breakfast bar, which is set up with placemats, porcelain plates, cloth napkins and matching silverware not for two, but three. There’s even a vase filled with pink dahlia flowers and baby’s breath.

“Lied?”

“Yeah, uh, I know I said this morning that it would just be you and me for lunch.” She exhales, steeling herself. “Junghee is coming.”

“Junghee?”

“Yeah,” Taeyeon sighs. 

“I thought you guys were getting along now?”

“We are, we are. But that’s over text, Jinks. I don’t know what it’ll be like in person, and I’d really like you to be here, too.”

“But I don’t want to talk to Junghee, Tae.”

“I get that, but please stay, okay? She’s my half. She’s a part of my life now.”

“But you don’t want to be alone with her?”

Junghee, busying herself with wiping down the countertop and reorganizing the magnets on her fridge, stills. “It’s complicated, Jinks.”

“I’m getting that sense.”

Finally, she looks at them directly. “Please, just stay for an hour. Then you can say you have something going on and have to leave. Just an hour.”

“Fine. But I’m going to go wash my face first. And do you have anything I could change into? I feel like trash next to you.”

Taeyeon’s relief shines through her skin. “I’ve got a nice button down from an ex that will probably fit you. And thank you. I owe you.”

“Yeah, I know you do.”

The shirt does, fortunately, fit and Jinki has just enough time to clean themself up, change, and talk to themself in the mirror ( _ They them their their they them they remember the alst time Junghee was here and she may have misgendered them but she apologized which means it’s okay. Jinki is not a man Jinki is whoever they say they are them their they them)  _ before Junghee arrives with a timid knock to Taeyeon’s door. She’s just as tiny and young as Jinki remembers her to be, but is wearing a mustard yellow sweater and white trousers. No, or at least very little, make-up on her face, and, however contradictory it might seem, her youth is less exaggerated now. She’s no longer a child playing dress-up, but still, she’s a child.

She and Taeyeon hug stiffly.

“I’m not sure if you remember,” Taeyeon says, gesturing toward Jinki. “This is my friend, Jinki. They/them.”

Junghee nods numbly. “Hi. I remember.”

“It’s nice to see you again,” Jinki says.

“You too. And I’m sorry… for misgendering you.”

Jinki waves it away. “Don’t—let’s eat, okay? I’m hungry.”

“Right.” Taeyeon puts on mitts, opens the oven door and pulls out a Stouffers lasagna, which she places on a hot plate on the breakfast bar. “I’m not much of a cook but lunch is served.”

Somehow, they end up sitting with Junghee in the middle. Taeyon divides the lasagna into uneven squares and shovels one onto each of their plates.

“So,” Taeyeon says. “Tell me about how it’s going with Key, Jinks.”

Junghee’s eyes are on them.

“It’s okay,” Junghee says. “It’s not awkward. Um, Taeyeon and I… we’re each other’s halves. So, technically, I guess, you and I already know each other.”

Taeyeon continues. “R-right! Whatever you can say to me you can say to Junghee.” With Junghee staring down into her lasagna, Taeyeon mouths  _ sorry! _

Jinki sighs. “Well. It’s good.”

“Have you had sex yet?”

Junghee’s left hand, holding her fork in the air, suddenly freezes.

Junghee’s hand still hasn’t moved.  _ Why is Taeyeon still talking about this? Of course an eighteen-year-old is going to feel awkward with two fully grown adults talking about sex over her like this! _

“Um, yeah.”

Junghee speaks up before Taeyeon can. Setting down her fork, she turns to Jinki. “Mist… Jinki, I mean. How are you dating someone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you worried that you’re stealing someone else’s half?”

Jinki’s stomach sinks.

“There are people who are poly,” Taeyeon says, swooping in. “Some people have agreements with their halves that they can have other relationships outside of that pair, romantic or sexual ones, or both.”

“So Key has a deal like this with his half?”

“I don’t know,” says Jinki.

Taeyeon’s brow furrows. “You don’t know?”

“I mean, I asked if it was okay, and he just told me not to worry about it.”

“Jinki, do you think he could be cheating?”

Junghee sits up straighter in her seat. “Are you the other guy?”

“I don’t think so,” says Jinki. “He hasn’t told me about his half, but I think I would know if he were sneaking around or cheating. It would be easier to just tell me the truth, if he were cheating, rather than make me believe that his half knows he’s pursuing a relationship with me.”

“So you’d still be going out with him even if he were cheating?” Junghee’s voice is suddenly cold.

“Hmm?” Taeyeon asks.

Junghee ignores her. “You sound like you have experience. Dating cheaters.”

Jinki’s eyes flash to Taeyeon but she looks just as shocked as they feel. “Y-yeah. I do.”

The dishes, the vase, the silverware all clang together as Junghee smashes her fish against the breakfast bar. “Why? That’s not right!”

“Junghee!”

Ignoring her half, Junghee keeps her gaze, sharp and accusatory, focused on Jinki. “It’s not right. Who are you to interfere with a pair, huh? It’s  _ fucking  _ fate, it’s what’s meant to be. What gives you or anyone else the right to go against that!”

“Junghee, you need to calm down.” Taeyeon places a hand on Junghee’s shoulder, but she pushes it away.

“It’s not right! You need to stop.” Tears well in her eyes. “My dad didn’t think it mattered if he went against it, and you know what? My mom hasn’t been happy since. His selfishness  _ ruined  _ her.

“The strings mean we’re meant to be. That’s what they mean, and you shouldn’t mess with it. No one should mess with it. We can’t be happy unless we’re with our halves, so you can’t split halves apart.”

It goes quiet. Junghee sniffles, pick up a cloth napkin and dabs her eyes with it.

Jinki eases themself off the breakfast stool. “I have to go,” they say.

Taeyeon’s chair squeaks as he pushes it out from beneath her. “Jinks, wait, please.”

“No.” Jinki shakes their head, backing toward the door as Taeyeon nears. Their mind is struggling for words but they can’t produce anything except “No.”

* * *

It’s probably a bad habit—definitely a bad habit—that Jinki has, the habit that makes them go to Minho’s bar whenever they’re upset. But Jinki can’t help themself. Especially tonight, when it’s a Sunday. But Jinki has taught with a hangover before and fuck it! Just fuck it.

To think an eighteen-year-old girl and her stupid mouth would drive Jinki, a fully-grown adult, to drown himself in alchohol not once, but twice. And it’s been over five hours since their encounter and Jink is still steaming.

“Is there a reason you only come here nowadays when you’re upset?” Minho says when they enter. It must be written on their face. Jinki’s misery.

“I’m just upset a lot, that’s all. Get me a G&T, please.”

Minho mixes the drink, slides it over to them. “You okay? Taeyeon was texting me earlier trying to find you. She said you turned your phone off.”

“Don’t tell her I’m here.”

“Had a feeling you would say that.” Minho leans over the counter. “Did something happen between you two?”

“Kind of,” says Jinki. “If you consider her half to be between us, then yes.”

“So she’s not only a headache to Taeyeon but to you too? Amazing.”

“Your sarcasm isn’t appreciated, Minho.”

“It’s all I’ve got, Jinks.” 

Jinki swirls his cocktail with the thin straw. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Who is Key’s half?”

“Woohyun Nam.”

Jinki feels sick. “Where is he?”

Minho, busying himself with wiping down the counter, pauses. Something crosses over his face, like he has said something he shouldn’t have. “Has Key not told you?”

“Not told me  _ what _ ?”

“Ah, fuck. Look, Jinks, it’s really… not my business.” Minho sighs. “And, honestly, I don’t think it’s yours, either.”

“What?”

“You’ve only been seeing each other for, what, two weeks now? Three?”

“So?”

“You barely know each other. Like, when’s his birthday? How old was he when he lost his first tooth? What was the name of his first grade teacher?”

“I’m asking about his half not his bank account login.”

“And what makes you think that’s any less private?”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Jinki’s temperature is rising with their frustration. “It’s basic information. I know everyone’s half even if I don’t ask. I know my students’ halves because they sit right next to each other, basically in each other’s laps. I know your half because the first time I ever came to this bar he walked in through the door and your face lit up. I can pick up any of the, what, dozen strings lying across the floor of this bar to go from one half to another. It’s not private information. It’s as basic a fact as the color of someone’s eyes.”

“If it were, don’t you think Key would have just told you right off the bat?” Minho presses his fingers to his temples. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s pretty black and white, Minho. You’ve either got a half or you’re like me. End. Of. Story.”

“Look, if you want to know about Key’s half, ask Key. I shouldn’t have even said anything. Let me know if you want another drink.”

“You know, I’m just gonna go home.” Jinki throws a twenty on the bar and downs the rest of their gin and tonic in a few full gulps. They have more than enough alcohol at home.

* * *

Enough alcohol to have too much, to keep them drinking until three am. They don’t even get the chance to cancel their morning class, which they sleep through. Whatever. Whatever! It’s a freshman class, anyway. Fuck freshmen.

And fuck Taeyeon, whose constant calls keep Jinki from turning on their phone.

And fuck whoever it is knocking on their door! They’ve been going at it for over five minutes now. Jesus, it’s two in the goddamn afternoon can’t an enby get some goddamn hungover sleep?

Jinki swings open the door, eyes half-closed. “God, what is it? I’m not intere—”

“Oh my god, you’re okay.” The voice is Key’s and his arms wrap around Jinki’s torso in a tight embrace. “You weren’t there at your office hours and I overheard some students saying you’d missed all of your classes today, and Minho said you got drunk and I was so scared you’d passed out somewhere or were hurt.”

“I’m fine. Just hungover.”

“I can tell.” Key pulls away. “You still smell like booze. Come on, you should shower and I’ll start on getting you something to eat. You’ve got food in your fridge, right?”

“I’m sure I’ve got something I just don’t really know what.”

“You’re super hungover, so I’m not surprised.” He pushes gently at their chest. “Go back inside. I’ll get you something to drink. You’re dehydrated.”

“I don’t know I drank so much I don’t think I’ll ever be thirsty again,” Jinki says, half-joking as he waits at the kitchen table.

Key pokes an empty bottle of vodka on the kitchen counter. “Well, um, that’s… whatever.” He puts a cup of tap water in front of Jinki. “Drink this.”

“I know how to take care of myself, Key. I’ve been drinking since you were, like, fifteen.”

“Then we have something in common,” he says, nonchalant. “And you don’t look like you’re doing too hot, to be honest.”

“I’m fine. I’ve just got a headache and I forgot to call off my classes. It’s not a big deal.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

“It won’t be anything I can’t handle. It’s my first absence since I started teaching here and there’s room in the syllabus to push things back. You can calm down, Key.”

He hesitates. “Jinki, are you okay?”

“How many times do I have to say it? I’m fine.”

“Woah. Clearly you’re  _ not  _ fine.”

“Well, it’s got nothing to do with you, Key, so you shouldn’t be concerned.”

“What are you talking about, Jinki?”

“Just don’t worry about me, okay?” Jinki rises to their feet, avoiding Key’s gaze. “I’m going to shower. Do whatever you want. Leave, stay, I don’t care.” Without looking back, they walk into their bathroom. They avoid meeting their own eyes in the mirror.

A half hour later, when Jink reenters the main room of his apartment, showered and changed, Key isn’t there. There’s a BLT on the table with a piece of paper torn from a legal pad:

_ Jinks, _

_ Not sure what’s up with you but I think you need to calm down. Or at least sober up. _

_ Text me when you’re feeling better, please? I need to make sure you’re okay. I worry, you know. _

_ -Key _

They ball up Key’s note, try and fail to toss it into the kitchen trash can. Who is Key to say anything, anyway? They’ve only known each other for a few weeks. Jinki doesn’t even know who his half is aside from a name.

They grip their heart string and pull it downward as though to ring a bell, but there’s only silence. 

* * *

Wednesday.

1:03 pm

“Jinki, I know you’re getting my texts and I know you’re reading them. You’re the only person aside from my mom who hasn’t turned off read notifications.”

1:05 pm

“I’m sorry, dude. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Junghee would blow up like that. I had no idea.”

“I should have defended you and I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do and I’m so sorry about that.”

1:09 pm

“She might be my half but that doesn’t mean I agree with her. I don’t. Jinki, Key makes you happy. I can tell. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t keep hanging out with him or have sex with him or date him or even fall in love with him.”

11:11 pm

“Make a wish, Jinks.”

* * *

On Friday Key and Jinki are back to texting one another. Jinki can’t keep tame their thoughts and barely manages to keep from typing the name Nam Woohyun when they’re texting or saying it when Key shows up at his house with take-out that night.

They think of every cliche: Key’s eyes must look like stars to this Woohyun, fireworks have to go off every time they kiss, he must sigh with relief whenever Key touches him. Like he’s burning up, like he’s in pain whenever Key isn’t beside him. 

Jinki doesn’t register him moving toward them on the couch until a hand presses against their thigh. They start and Key pulls his hand away. “Sorry.”

“Sorry,” says Jinki “I don’t think I can. I mean, I don’t know why but I don’t—”

“It’s okay.” Key rests his hands over his knees. “Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah I’m just not in the mood, you know?”

“That’s not…”He sighs. “Has something happened? And I”m not referring to not having sex with me right now or anything, obviously. That’s fine. You’ve just been weird all week and you’ve barely spoken to me tonight. I was just touching you to see if you’d even respond, honestly.”

“Oh.”

` Quiet again. The movie playing on the tv isn’t loud enough to swallow the silence. The sleeves of Key’s sweater scratch Jinki’s shoulders.

They stand. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll be here.”

Standing in front of the mirror, the faucet running, hands pressed flat on the counter, Jinki looks at their reflection. Nam Woohyun, they imagine, is masculine, he’s got defined features, his hair is always tame and well-styled. He could be a model, really.

Key’s voice pulls Jinki from their reflection. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Jinki turns off the faucet. “Just needed a second.”

“I heard the water running,” he explains, stepping inside. “Are you narrating yourself?”

“Hmm?”

“You do it all the time,” says Key. “I remember being super confused the first night I spent here because I woke up to you talking to yourself in the third person. Just saying what you were doing.”

“Yeah. I do that a lot, I guess.”

He chuckles. “You do.” Pushing himself onto the counter, facing Jinki, he pushes a strand of hair from Jinki’s forehead. “Key tucks a strand of loose hair from Jinki’s face and puts it behind their ear.”

“It’s weird when you do it.” Jinki blushes.

“He wants Jinki to narrate themself, too.”

Jinki scratches their chin. “Jinki is very embarrassed by this situation.”

“Key doesn’t care. He cups his hand around Jinki’s chin, turns his head so they’re meeting eyes. He thinks Jinki is really, really pretty. That their skin is soft and their eyes are shining and the red blush on their cheeks is so cute.”

Jinki feels frozen, stuck. They don’t want to move and they don’t want Key to, either.

“He doesn’t want Jinki to keep secrets from him, or not tell him when they’re having a hard time. Jinki’s skin is heating up right under his fingers—they’re so embarrassed and it’s adorable because they’re not moving. They’re letting this happen, this contact, this nearness as Key leans in and—”

Key kisses them softly on the lips.

“Gives them a kiss.”

Jinki pulls carefully away. “We should, um, head back to the couch. I’ll order something for us. How does Chinese sound?”

They’re midstep, moving backward toward the door, when Key grasps their hand. Jinki freezes.

This time, he speaks directly to them: “I want to be your boyfriend, Jinks.”

“N-now?”

“Yeah, now. And tomorrow and the day after that and on and on, hopefully.” Key swallows, collecting himself. “I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I want to hear it, and I want to help you feel better, if I can. I care about you, and I want to dedicate more of my time and energy to you.

“And, selfishly, I also want you to introduce me as your boyfriend. And I want to sling my arm over your shoulders and pull you close to me and say that you’re my enbyfriend or datemate or whatever word you like. You mean a lot to me.”

Jinki speaks without thinking. “Can you spend the night here? With me?”

“Of course.”

“Even though it’s a Friday?”

“Yeah.” Key pushes himself from the counter. He readjusts his grip to intertwine his fingers with Jinki’s. “Let’s get that Chinese. Your treat.”

* * *

Key shakes Jinki awake a bit past eight the next morning. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jinki groans. They turn to the alarm clock beside them and frown as Key sits at the edge of the bed. “Why are you up so early? And dressed already?”

“Not all of us get to lie around naked all day,” says Key. “And it’s Saturday. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“I know.”

“But you asked me to stay the night.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

“But I did.” Key runs his hands through Jinki’s hair. “I usually don’t sleep well outside of my own house, but I’m comfortable here, now, so I decided it wouldn’t hurt to stay. As long as I got up early enough to hit the road by nine.”

“You’re driving somewhere?”

“About two hours from here, yeah. I’ll probably be back around six. It takes a bit longer coming back because of the traffic… Tomorrow, during your office hours?”

“I’ll be there,” says Jinki.

Key laughs. “You better. And you didn’t give me an answer yesterday.”

“Enbyfriend.”

A small smile grows on Key’s face. “Hmm?”

Jinki turns their face into the pillow. “Enbyfriend.”

“Yes, that is a word.”

“And it’s what you can call me,” Jinki says, raising their head. “You can call me your enbyfriend and you’ll be my boyfriend.”

Key’s eyes shine. “I like it.”

* * *

Jinki’s heart feels lighter, brighter when they see Key standing in front of the shared graduate office on Monday. Then, it begins to hurt when they notice Taeyeon standing beside him.

Key notices Jinki first and pushes off the wall toward him. “Hi,” he says, kissing Jinki on the cheek. When he pulls away, his expression changes into a frown. “Wh-what’s up?”

“I should have known you were Key,” says Taeyeon. Key turns his head to look back at her. “You match Jinki’s descriptions to a tee.”

“Oh. You guys are friends?”

Jinki nods. “Taeyeon, Key. Key, Taeyeon.”

“I don’t mean to be awkward,” Key begins. He reaches his hand toward Jinki’s and laces their fingers together. “But, this atmosphere is… awkward.”

“I just want to talk to Jinki for a bit.”

“I don’t want to talk right now.” 

Key’s grip tightens over Jinki’s palm.

“Then when?” asks Taeyeon. Her exasperation is clear. “It’s been over a week.”

“I don’t know. I’ll reach out to you.”

They hold gazes for a minute, then Taeyeon shoves her hands into her pockets and gives a stiff shrug. “Okay. Okay. I can’t force you.” She inhales audibly through her nose, exhales through her mouth. “I’ll see you, okay? And… I’m sorry.”

She turns on her heel and leaves. Jinki watches her stride down the hallway, then turn out of sight.

“Did you guys have a fight?”

“In a sense,” says Jinki. They lead Key into the office and they both settle into their chairs, in place beside each other at Jinki’s desk. Key pops open a small bag of potato chips he’d been holding onto.

“I thought you guys were really close.”

“We are.” Jinki presses his fingers against his temples. “It’s just… her half.”

Key furrows his brow. “Her half?”

“Junghee. The teen. I’ve told you about her. She doesn’t like the fact that we’re together.”

“She doesn’t like the fact that you and Taeyeon are friends?” asks Key, obviously confused.

“No, not that. Not me and Taeyon.” Jinki looks up at Key, who is holding a potato chip in the air. “You and me.”

“ _ What _ ?”

Jinki nods. They snatch the chip from Key’s fingers and toss into their mouth. “Yeah. Since we’re not each other’s halves and all.”

“So?”

“So there’s someone else we’re supposed to be with. She thinks I’m stealing you from your half.”

“Th-that! No. Y-you’re not doing anything like that. No.” Key shakes his head like a wet dog: instinctively and forcefully. “Just, just no. What?”

Jinki has never seen him this flustered. “Key, take a second.”

“You don’t think she’s right, do you?”

“I mean, she is, technically. I have a half and it’s not you; you have a half and it’s not me. And your half is still alive, you half can still have you.”

He inhales audibly. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to be with you.”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” says Jinki. “With dating someone. I don’t care if your half knows or approves or if this is a secret. I don’t care. I’ve done bad things before and I’ll do more bad things as life goes on.”

“So you think our relationship is something bad?”

Jinki turns to their laptop, folding it open and watching the little spiral turn as it loads up. “I know it’s not right.”

* * *

The rest of April passes like sludge: like snow turned brown by dirt or sand meant to dry it, lingering much longer than Jinki would like to see it.

The semester ends in the beginning of the May with a rush of reading and writing for the classes in which Jinki is a student and reading and grading for where they’re a teacher. All of Jinki’s students pass except one, who didn’t turn in their final project on time and consequently received a zero. Jinki derives no satisfaction from failing students, of course, but there is some sort of divine justice which they feel. Sometimes, things don’t go your way, no matter who you are. Sometimes, they fucking suck and there’s absoutely nothing you can do about it but put your head down and keep moving.

They don’t see Key very often, as they both become busy, and they meet with Taeyeon even less. But they have made up. Jinki holds grudges, yes, but for Taeyeon their frustration melted away a few days after their awkward encounter outside of the grad office. They knew her well enough, long enough, to know that her apology was sincere. And, besides that, Jinki can’t imagine living without her.

They don’t really talk about Junghee anymore unless Jinki brings her up. Taeyeon’s relationship with the teen has certainly soured: that much is obvious.

Summer gives them a chance to focus on their research and Key gets a job at a coffee shop in town that’s quiet now that the regular semesters are over. Jinki goes there when he’s working, finds a table and pretends they don’t notice when Key sneaks them extra coffees or stares at them as they lean against the coffee bar across the room.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he asks, once, when the shop is especially empty and he slips into the chair opposite Jinki.

“Did you know the Japanese archipelago is comprised of over six thousand islands?” Jinki says, looking up from their beaten-up copy of  _ Orlando _ .

Key smiles. “That’s not the kind of information I was really asking for, but it’s interesting nonetheless.”

“Have you been?”

“To Japan? Yeah, just once. But only two islands, the main one and Enoshima.”

Jinki hums.

“I didn’t know you were into geography.”

“Not really. A student happened to mention it in their final project and I thought it was interesting.” They dog-ear the book and shut it. “What do you think they’re like? All those islands?”

“I think the ones up north are very cold and the ones further south are very hot and the ones in the middle experience all four seasons.”

“Probably, but that’s not what I meant.”

Key shrugs. “I’m not much of an island person. I mean, I like a beach trip every once in a while, but I’d rather be in a big city than The Middle of Nowhere, Ocean. Whether it’s cold, hot or in between.”

“It’s kind of like here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Compared to a big city, you’re basically on an island now. In this weird, isolated place made up primarily of people your age who are only here for part of the year. A place with an off-season.”

He snorts and rises from his seat. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, but you are cute, nerd.” He reaches for Jinki’s coffee and sips it. “I think I’ve got to take you away.”

“I don’t know,” they say. “I’m not sure if I want to leave.”

“You’ll be the most naive doctor ever if you don’t. I’ll kidnap you if I have to.”

* * *

Woohyun Nam hasn’t escaped Jinki’s mind. They can’t let go of him.

Being introduced to Key’s roomates as “my enbyfriend” helps, being kissed by him on the lips even in public helps, “I’ve never told anyone this before” whispered into their ear helps.

But he still leaves every Saturday. Ignores Jinki’s texts until the next day and doesn’t volunteer any information about where or why he went. And, since that one night back in April, he refuses to spend Friday nights together.

It’s when Jinki looks into the mirror that he thinks the most of Woohyun. What was once their safe space, a place where Jinki crafted their own identity, their own narrative like a sculptor working with clay. They imagine Woohyun’s masculine perfection, the certainty that’s turned his eyes hard, his knowing grins.

Once, after Jinki and Key have sex, Jinki goes into the bathroom to clean up a bit and Key follows. They look into the mirror and realize how easy it would be to recast this scene.

Woohyun, shirtless, is standing in front of the sink. His hair is matted to his forehead with sweat, a few beads slide down his cheeks. He’s shirtless, you can just barely see the band of gray sweatpants in the reflection, beneath the sharp cuts of his hip bones. He’s fit, tall and broad. Even his neck looks powerful.

Key is sitting on the counter beside him in a pair of Woohyun’s boxers and nothing else. He’s beautiful, everything: the little scar in his eyebrow, the straightness of his shoulders, his breasts, nipples red--almost as irritated as Woohyun’s. His back is curved so he’s leaning toward Woohyun, studying him. Burning Woohyun into his eyes so everywhere he looks his silhouette will be there.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Hmm?” Key straightens. “Like what?”

“Like you’re cramming for a test.”

Key shifts his position, leaning backward and placing his feet in Jinki’s sink. “I don’t know. Why do I have my feet in your sink?”

“To ignore the question.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s because I was hoping your eyes would move up to more interesting parts of my body. And that knowing I was staring at you would get you hot and bothered rather than just bothered.”

“Oh,” says Jinki dumbly.

“Go start the shower, babe. I’ll join you.”

* * *

In mid-July, Jinki enters Key’s cafe as they always do. It’s almost religious now, in a way that they might write about in an essay as being “domestic.” But that just goes to show what little they knew about relationships, that they would classify having dinner together at Jinki’s after Key gets off work every Thursday as “domestic.”

Except, when Jinki enters the cafe, Key isn’t there. One of Key’s co-workers, Amber, notices their confusion and calls them over.

“He’s been on the phone,” xe explains, “for over a half hour, now. It’s some kind of emergency, I think.”

Jinki’s stomach plummets. “Do you know what’s going on?”

Xe shakes xer head. “No, but he seems upset. He’s in the backroom, so I’m sure if you just wait here, he’ll come out soon.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Jinki sits in the far corner of the cafe, where they have an unobstructed view of the door leading the employee break room. Their heart is working overtime. Cold sweat oozes from their every pore.

A few minutes of agonizing waiting pass before the break room door is pushed open with such force it bangs against the opposite wall. Key’s face is dark red, his shoulders raised as though to strike. He only notices Jinki when they, standing, call out his name.

“Oh, Jinks.” His features soften a bit, but not much. With long, determined strides, he crosses the cafe, straight for the door. “I forgot.”  
Jinki shakes their head. “That doesn’t matter. Are you alright? Is everything okay?”

Key bites down on his lip. “Don’t worry, I just have something I need to take care of.” He shoulders his way through the outside door, letting it shut on Jinki, who follows. “Something came up suddenly.”

“What’s going on?” Jinki stutters forward, barely managing to grasp Key’s wrist and ease him to a stop. “What’s happened?”

“It’s nothing. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“That’s not fair. You don’t have to deal with this alone. That’s why we’re dating, after all.”

Key exhales noisily. “It’s… hard. It’s Woohyun. My half.”

Though Jinki has known the name for months now, this is the first time Key has ever said it. “Oh.” They release his wrist.

“It’s just… fuck. It’s  _ fucking  _ ridiculous.” His hands curl into fists. “Just because we’re not married I get treated like this? Over a goddamn phone call!? Fuck.”

Jinki retreats into themself, pressing their hands against their chest. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault. Obviously. You don’t have anything to do with this,” Key says. “I need to go and see what’s happening.”

“Do you need a ride? I can drive you to pick up your car if--”

“No. I need to walk. I need to calm down.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Jinki, I’m fine.” He’s already taken off and is several strides from them. “I need to deal with this.” He turns his head away and jogs a few more steps, then turns to jaywalk across the street, outside of Jinki’s view.

* * *

He doesn’t call Jinki that night, or the next. Jinki knows better than to expect anything on Saturday and is immersed in writing when their phone suddenly rings just after ten pm.

“Hey,” says Key.

“Hey.”

“Do you mind if I come over?”

“ _ Now? _ ”

“Yeah.”

Running a hand through their hair, Jinki leans back. “If you want to, I guess it would be okay.”

“Good. I’m already here so open your door, please,” Key says, then he hangs up.

When Jinki opens the door, Key almost falls into their arms. Breathing them in, he wraps his arms around Jinki’s waist. “God, I’ve missed you so much…”

Jinki doesn’t know what to do with their hands. They let their arms hang awkwardly at their side. “Are you okay?” they ask, knowing full well that this emergency hadn’t been about Key himself.

“Just tired. And stressed, but mostly tired.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“Because I missed you, obviously.” Key sounds hurt. He pulls his face from Jinki’s chest and looks up, frowning. “Do you not want me here?”

“No. It’s not that. I’m just confused.”

“About what?”

Jinki sighs. “I don’t know what’s going on, Key. With you. With--”  _ Us _ , Jinki is about to say, but Key cuts them off.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You just disappeared, Key. And you do it every week.” When Key hadn’t turned back to look at them, a part of Jinki had become worried that the image of Key walking away would be the last they’d ever see of him.

He pulls away from the hug. “It’s not fair to you, is it?”

“Not really.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmm.”

“I am, Jinki. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know that,” Jinki says with a sigh, unsure if they really do. “I just don’t know what to think about it, honestly. I don’t know how or what I should feel about it.”

Key bites down on his lip. “Is there anything you’re sure about?”

“I’m glad you’re okay. And, yeah, I don’t understand why you’re here right now, but I’m glad at the same time. That you came.”

“I didn’t even stop at my house. I came straight here. I missed you.”

“Mmm.”

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

“You don’t want to go home and shower?”  
Key scratches his face, shifting his weight onto one hip. “Well, I can shower here, right?” Jinki nods. “Then can I stay?”

“Yeah, you can stay, if you want to.”

They stare at each other for a minute but Key, instead of turning into the bedroom to go shower, breaks the silence by asking, “Can we talk first? And sit on the couch or something?”

“Uh, sure.”

They settle down beside one another, but not touching. Key stares down at his hands, folded in his lap. “I don’t know how to start.”

“Is this about your half?”

Surprise falls over Key’s face. “Y-yeah.”

Jinki hums.

“I just--it feels wrong to not tell you. And I really care about you.”

“I care about you too,” they reply. “Despite… everything.”

“I never doubted it.” The two sit in silence for a while before Key speaks up. “His name is Woohyun.”

“Your half?”

“We met in high school,” he continues. “Honestly, at first we didn’t even know we were halves. There were just so many threads and they all piled up on top of each other. Sophomore year, we had math class together, and I walked up to the front of the class to do a problem and I raised my hand--” he does it now, lifting his left hand into the air as though touching something Jinki can’t see, “--so I could keep steady on the board while I wrote, but, almost as soon as I did, my hand was suddenly pulled backward by the string. And I looked back and there he was, in the front row.

“Just staring at me, holding our string.” Key lowers his hand. “The whole class was silent, at first, and then they cheered and clapped. The teacher even cried. But we just looked at each other, stunned. The teacher moved one of the students to the back, so I could sit next to Woohyun, and canceled the rest of the lesson to let everyone have free time. I felt like every eye in the room was on me, and everyone was trying to listen to our conversations, so I just stayed quiet and looked at him.”

“And Woohyun?” It feels odd to say the name, even stranger to say it in front of Key.

“He was quiet, too. He didn’t say anything until the bell rang for lunch, then he asked if I wanted to eat with him. We technically weren’t allowed to leave campus, but Woohyun took me to his bike and he sat down and I held onto him and he pedaled us to McDonalds. We got scolded later, and we didn’t have lunch together for a while, but we saw each other constantly.

“The school had notified our parents, and our families had basically merged within a month or two. Or at least it felt that way. At least twice a week our families had dinner together, combined with study sessions. My parents forced me to go to Woohyun’s baseball games and his made him join the art club. I hated it.”

Jinki’s brow furrows. “You hated it?”

“Yeah,” Key breathes, shaking his head. “I didn’t like being around him at all.”

“Why?”

“I hadn’t figured myself out. I knew I… was different, I guess, from when I was thirteen. I wasn’t really a tomboy, or at least I never felt like one, but it was then that I started feeling honestly weird about being grouped with girls. I realized I wanted to kiss them when I was fourteen, then, a few months before I met Woohyun, I realized I wasn’t a girl. But I wasn’t sure what I was yet.

“All I could think about was that it was a relief I had realized this now, before I met my half. I could use the next two years to figure out what I wanted and become that, so my half, whoever they were, would see  _ me:  _ finished, perfect.”

“But you were sixteen when you two found each other.”

“Exactly. I was still living like a girl, and him showing up just felt like it put everything on pause. I felt stuck, like it wouldn’t be fair to him if I were to change. So, unconsciously, I began to hate him. I hated him because he was forcing me to be this person I wasn’t, forcing me to stay the same even though I had been looking forward to change. Then, in the summer of the next year, we have this fight. He could tell how I felt about him and he confronted me. So I punched him.”

“Wow,” Jinki replies. “I never knew you to be violent.”

Key chuckles, hiding his face. “I know, I know. It was… unexpected for me, too. I was staring at him while he crouched over, blood pooling in his palm from a split lip, and I thought: I’ll hurt him more. I want him to hate me as much as I hate him. So I said: and I’m a boy! You’re half is a fucking boy--how do you feel about that?”

“How did he take it?”

“Well, I kind of ran away, so I don’t know his immediate reaction. But the next day we were doing homework together at his house and his lip was all swollen and bruised, but he’d told his mom he’d fallen or something, I don’t remember his excuse--but I was just sitting there, fuming, when he asked me what I meant by that, by calling myself a boy. And the rest is history.”

“How so?”

He waves a hand. “He got it. Not at first, but he warmed up to it. He was the first person I ever told and there was something… special about it. He accepted it, so I gradually started accepting him. And, you know, we fell in love. The whole deal. Holding hands during lunch, making out in the hallways, we both did elaborate prom invitations to each other, and I booked a hotel room after the dance.”

Jinki stutters out “How cliche.”

It must have come across light-hearted enough, because Key breaks out into a big smile. “Yeah, it was.”

They lean forward, the bench squeaking to move with them. “Why do you only see him on Saturdays?”

“So it was really obvious.”

“Yeah. I knew from the beginning, basically.”

“He’s sick. Comatose, I guess,” Key says simply. “He got into an accident a few months after we graduated.”

Jinki feels cold. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.” Key picks at the hem of his shirt.

Jinki doesn’t know what else to say, but he seems finished talking. Maybe not finished, as his eyes look heavy, his shoulders sagging. Maybe too tired to say anything else.

They brush their teeth together and then ease into bed together. Key falls asleep immediately, his breathing slows, his movement seems to stop, he even snores lightly. He must be so, so tired.

Jinki shifts toward him and presses their nose into his hair to breathe him in.

**

Jinki’s bed starts to smell like Key, too. The pillow on the right side of the bed, specifically. Key doesn’t leave for four days, and, even then, it’s only to get some of his own clothes from his house--and he did it on his lunch break from the cafe. The only real downside to staying at Jinki’s apartment is that Key can’t walk to work, and Jinki only has a single parking space to use, but he claims he doesn’t mind the public transportation, even if makes his commute longer.

For Jinki, the downsides are that Key distracts them when they’re trying to work, or read. Not that he doesn’t understand Jinki’s work or try to respect them and keep quiet, but because they’re always caught off guard when he does anything. Open the refrigerator door, sit down on the couch, even just walking into the room wrenches them from their work almost violently. Key is here, in the apartment with them.

Key who just woke up, Key coming back from work, Key making breakfast, Key watching TV and absentmindedly scratching their knee, Key texting his friends, Key scrubbing down the bathroom sink, Key picking out his outfit for the day from  _ his drawers  _ at Jinki’s place. Key Key Key.

It doesn’t feel real. Key.

Jinki doesn’t want to say “living together,” and Key hasn’t said it either. They’ve only been seeing each other for a little over three months, so is it too early for that? Jinki has no fucking idea, but they like when Key slings an arm over them in bed when they’re both clothed and didn’t have sex. They like that the pillow that smells like Key has actually become “Key’s pillow.”

**

On Taeyeon’s birthday, she invites them both to lunch at a Mexican restaurant to celebrate. She starts off the meal with a round of tequila shots for the table.

“Don’t you have a class to teach after this?” Jinki asks.

Taeyeon waves a hand. “Don’t rub it in my face that I have to teach over the summer while you get to lie around and do nothing.”

“I’m working on my dissertation, and it’s not my fault that you spend all of your money on outfits for mobile games.”

Taeyeon frowns. “They’re hats and they make me happy, asshole.”

They order food for the table and, once it comes, dig in. Though this is the first time Key and Taeyeon have spent time together following their meeting in front of Jinki’s office, it’s not awkward.

Key must be comfortable because, when he notices Jinki barely picking at their food (Cilantro. They’d forgotten how unpleasant it is to eat, and that it's in seemingly everything at this restaurant.), he makes a show of “stealing” some vegetables and meat from the cast-iron pan from Taeyeon’s fajita and giving them to Jinki.

Taeyeon winks at him and Key winks back, then excuses himself to the restroom.

Leaning against the table, Taeyeon says, “I like him.”

“You said as much earlier.”

“Yeah, but I  _ like  _ him.”

“Taeyeon, you’re a lesbian. And he’s my boyfriend.”

She huffs. “I mean I like him for you. I like how you look sitting next to each other.”

They hesitate, unsure. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“You don’t have to be so hesitant, you know. You can be giddy and blushy or whatever.”

“I’m an adult, not a teen.” They push a few grains of rice back and forth on their plate. “In an adult relationship.”

“But this is your first relationship,” begins Taeyeon, “so--” 

“It’s not like he can take my virginity on prom night,” Jinki interrupts, then suddenly feels sick.

Taeyeon doesn't notice. “You’re allowed to feel happy about it. You’re allowed to look at him with stars in your eyes. He’s not afraid of it, obviously.”

“Is there a reason we only talk about Key when we’re together?”

“What? Do you want to talk about  _ Junghee _ ?”

Jinki stiffens at the poison in her voice. “She’s just a kid, Tae.”

“I know,” she says, resigned. “I know that.”

“How is she?”

“She’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Key returns to the table and either doesn’t notice the tension resting over the pair or chooses to ignore it, instead guiding the conversation with a hand that is both effortless and noticeable toward a less sensitive topic. But Jinki knows he noticed it, because he slides his hand into Jinki’s open palm under the table.

**

The rest of July and the first half of August pass easily, so, so easily. Jinki’s dissertation is nearing completion, and they hope to finish it up and present it by the end of the semester. Key is in talks with his landlord to get out of his contract early and formally move in with Jinki. They still can’t wrap their mind around it: how Key’s presence in what was once their private space doesn’t feel like much of an intrusion at all.

It is in the midst of these changes that fall semester resumes. They spend an entire day comparing their schedules and working out who should cook dinner on which days, when they can meet up for lunch together, and when it’d be easier for Key and Jinki to leave or go to campus together rather than Key relying solely on the bus system.

Key continues to come to Jinki’s office hours, and it’s only Thursday when he barges in with a deep-set frown. The other PhD candidate sharing the office glares at the couple angrily when Key’s chair squeaks loudly against the linoleum floor.

“Are you okay?” asks Jinki.

He groans. “Yeah, I’m just frustrated.”

“We’re two weeks into classes.”

“And I’m two seconds away from screaming my head off.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Workshops.”

Jinki chuckles. “You are a creative writing major, you know that, right?” They reach for the bag of chips Key brought for himself but only angrily tossed onto the desk and left alone. “You signed up for this.”

“I know that. The writing is cool. Or, uh, the prospect of it. I haven’t done much actual writing this week. Or month. Or year, I guess.”

“Aren’t you always writing?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re always typing away, especially when I’m at home working. So I just assumed…”

“No,” says Key with a shake of his head. “Well, I’m writing, but not…  _ writing _ . E-mails to my parents--they’re not very tech-savvy--or, you know, I’ve got a diary, I guess?”

“I didn’t know you kept a diary. That counts as writing.”

“Whatever. What I’m trying to say is that this fiction workshop I’m in is already frustrating. We’ve read nine pieces so far and  _ five  _ of them were prologues or first chapters to fantasy of sci-fi novels. Five, Jinks.”

Jinki hums.

“Maybe it’s because I’m older than like, everyone else in that class, but it feels so high school. Not that sci fi or fantasy are automatically high school, but these kids are saying that they’ve been working on these pieces for years. Years. They’ve grown up holding onto the same ideas and characters and… Honestly? It kind of makes me uncomfortable.

“Hmm.”

“Imagine being the same person you were when you were thirteen. Imagine not growing or changing, just experiencing the same things and over again so your idea of a story doesn’t change either. And, despite all these years, most of them are only a few chapters into the work. Chapters. Like, if you really care about something, if you really love these characters and this story, why have you written virtually nothing?”

Jinki shrugs.

“I don’t think fiction is my scene.”

They hum again, tossing another chip into their mouth.

Key sighs.“I don’t know what I was expecting from telling you this.”

Jinki freezes. “What do you mean?”

He crosses his legs, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not a good listener.”

“I’m listening just fine.”

“But you don’t care.”

“What do you expect me to do?” they reply, flippant. “I can’t force your peers to write anything different. I can’t force them to be better writers.”

“I’m just asking you to sympathize with me.”

“Well, I didn’t take a fiction workshop at the undergraduate level, so I can’t really relate.”

One of Key’s brows descends, the other raised in disbelief. His face is a mixture of rising anger and shock. “I’m not asking you to  _ relate _ .”

“Your workshop is what it is. Whether I sympathize or not isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

“This is your problem.” He raises his voice, sitting straighter in his seat and clapping a hand down on his thigh. “You just lie there and let anything happen. You just say it’s the way things are and act like it has nothing to do with you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about everything. Everyone rolls over you! No one listens to you! And you just fucking take it.”

The other PhD candidate coughs as though to remind Key that they’re still here, but Key ignores it.

_ Is this a fight? Are we fighting? _

“Your students misgender you all the time and you just accept it. A teenage girl fucking chews you out because you decide to date me and you just run away. You can’t defend yourself. It doesn’t even occur to you to defend yourself.”

Jinki’s mouth goes dry.

“It’s like you think you deserve it.” Jinki clasps their sweaty palms together and Key continues: “Do you? Do you think you deserve it?”

“Deserve what?”

Key seems unsure of how to start. “Uh, being misgendered. Do you deserve it?”

They lower their eyes to their desk. “I don’t blame my students or anyone else who does it. It’s easier, you know. For them to call me a man and use he/him pronouns. I look like one.”

“But you’re not a man,” he says in a lower, softer voice.

In their peripherals Jinki notices the other post-grad shuffle out of the room and shut the door behind them, which isn’t allowed during open office hours. “But if it’s easier for them to just treat me like a man, then they can. I say my pronouns every time I meet someone, but after that they just do whatever is easiest to them.”

“Don’t you hate it? You don’t consider yourself a man in any sense and you don’t like any pronouns other than “they”, you’ve told me that. So doesn’t it make you feel bad?”

“Yeah,” they breathe with an exasperated chuckle. “I hate it. It makes me feel terrible.”

“Then why do you let it happen?”

“Because it’s okay.”

“What it was me? What if someone called me a girl? What would you do? What would you think?”

“I’d think that they’re wrong.”

“And?”

Jinki licks his lips. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Th-that you’d punch them! Or hold me back from punching them, or yell at them or correct them or something.”

“I know you’re a man, Key.”

His fist hits the desk with a loud thud that buzzes through the air. “I know that, but that’s not what this is about!”

“Hey, you need to lower your voice.” They look toward the door, praying it won’t open. “The people in the hall or the classroom next door might--”

“I don’t get it, Jinki. I don’t get you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me.” He draws his hand from the desk and toward himself. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want this argument to be over.”

“Come on,” Key exhales. “What do you want for yourself a year from now? Five? What do you want from the world? From life?”

“I… I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”

“You’re twenty-seven years old with two degrees and you’re telling me you have no plans for the future? Nothing you want?”

They shake their head.

“How did you end up here? At this university?”

“It’s the closest to where I grew up.”

“Why English?”

“I like reading. I always have.”

“Why a master’s degree?”

“It just seemed… easier to stay.”

“The PhD?”

“I didn’t see a reason to do anything else.”

Key slumps in his chair. “I knew you were kind of passive but, Jinks, you’ve just let time wash over you. You’ve always gone the easiest way without even taking a second to think about what you wanted, right?”

“I don’t think about things like that. I focus on what’s in front of me.”

He pauses and takes a few deep breaths. “Can I ask you something?”

“You’ve been asking me a lot of questions already,” they reply, hoping he will lighten up.

He remains stoic. “Would things be different if your half hadn’t died?”

“Yeah,” Jinki replies immediately.

“How?”

“I would have made sure we went to the same college after high school.”

“What if you had to move to, like, Europe to do that?”

“I would have taken a year off and worked to save up enough money to move.”

“And you would have gone?”

Jinki nods.

“What if, after college, they got a job in Australia.”

“I would go to Australia and get a job in the same city.”

“What if you couldn’t find one?” As the questions pile up, Key’s voice grows harder and harder.

“I’d find one,” Jiki replies. “I would have to.”

“Why?”

“Because we’d have to stay together, the two of us. I wouldn’t let anything come in the way of that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Why would you have to stay together?”

“Because we’re halves. I’d fight for that.”

“But there’s nothing else to fight for, in your opinion. Other than for your half.”

“It’s the only thing that’s… right,” Jinki replies. “No matter what, halves are supposed to be together. Even if they get tired of each other, or want to see or have sex with other people, even if they lie to each other, they’re meant to be together.”

“Then what about us? You don’t want to fight for us? You don’t think we’re worth fighting for?”

They stay silent.

“We’re not worth fighting for because we’re not halves. Our genders aren’t worth fighting for because it inconveniences other people. Your life isn’t worth fighting for because some baby died twenty-seven years ago.”

Heat flares in Jinki’s chest. “They weren’t just some baby.”

“But they kind of were, Jinki,” Key says. He looks deflated and tired, with all of the anger he was carrying in his veins now evaporated. “They were someone’s baby, and it’s sad when a baby dies, but… Jinki, your life is still going. You didn’t die just because they did.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They hold one another’s gaze for a while, then Key stands. “No, I guess I don’t.”

**

Whatever certainty they had when talking with Key about whether or not they were having a fight was dashed when Key never comes home that night and only sends a text past ten that he is going to be staying at his own place. He doesn’t specify for how long, but the entire weekend passes and he doesn’t come back.

_ 11:01 am _

“Everyone fights, you know. It’s not the end of the world. It was good of you to give him his space.”

_ 11:01 am _

“You don’t think I should have just shown up at his place to talk to him? You don’t think it’s been too long?”

_ 11:03 am _

“I don’t think so, but I’d know for sure if you’d just tell me what the two of you fought about.”

_ 11:04 am _

“It was a private argument, Tae.”

_ 11:05 am _

“Yes, that’s what Yunho keeps saying when I ask him about it, too.”

_ 11:05 am _

“Who??”

_ 11:06 am _

“There’s only two other PhD candidates in English aside from yourself, Jinki. You should really learn their names.”

_ 11:08 am _

“I usually go pick him up from work on Mondays… do you think I should try to do that today?”

_ 11:09 am _

“Yeah. You guys will get to talk, at the very least.”

**

Jinki pulls up to the coffee shop five minutes before Key’s shift ends. They tap their fingers without rhythm against the steering wheel, watching the door. One, two, three customers walk out as he waits, then Key. Jinki manages to scramble out of the car before Key rounds the corner.

“Oh,” he says, holding his earbuds. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I was hoping we could talk. I could drive you home?”

Key hesitates, then nods and climbs into the passenger seat. As Jinki reverses from the parking spot, he shoves his earbuds into his pocket. “How are you?”

“I’m ok,” Jinki replies. “But I feel bad about what happened.”

“Me too.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He shakes his head. “I should not have walked away like that. But, can we put this conversation on pause?” He shifts in his seat. “We can talk on the bench outside of my house. I need the fresh air. I already feel sick.”

They pull up to Key’s house after a few minutes, unload from the car and settle onto the swinging bench. It’s been a few months since Jinki’s been back to this house, and this is the first time they’re certain they’re certain that there will be no making-out or heavy petting.

“That conversation back in your office,” Key starts. “It was too much for me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” they repeat weakly, “that I can’t defend you.”

Key’s brows twist in confusion. “What? Defend me?”

“I should stand up for your sake, I should… I should be strong.”

He sighs. “It’s not about me, Jinki.”

“But Woohyun would, wouldn’t he?”

The air around them both seems to stiffen at the mention of Key’s half. “W-what?”

“From what you told me, he wouldn’t hesitate to correct someone, or even throw fists if he had too. For your sake.”

“I don’t know why you’re bringing him up. He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“But if things were different--”

“If things were different,” Key cuts them off, throwing a hand toward the sky, “the sky would be purple. If things were different, we’d be in Korea. If things were different, bees would have bigger wings.”

“We wouldn’t be together.”

He pauses. “Yes. We would never have met.”

“It was chance,” Jinki continues, “if the timing had been a bit off, it wouldn’t have happened. If I hadn’t been at the bar that night, if you hadn’t been there, if I hadn’t misunderstood when you asked me on our first date.”

“I know that.”

“But it’s different with halves. There’s nothing as fragile as time that could keep their relationship from coming together.”

He inhales noisily. “I really don’t understand you. Saying these things when you know, first-hand, that halves don’t always love or even  _ like  _ each other. When you know sometimes they’re desperate to get away or be with someone else.”

“That doesn’t change anything. There’s… nothing else like having a half, but they’re also another person. Sometimes, you’re frustrated by them and do wrong as a result. But that doesn’t change the fact that they are the person made to complete you. There will be no one else in the world like that for you, other than your half.”

Key draws his shoulders in on himself.

Quiet falls over the pair again, the suffocating kind that makes Jinki aware of how big their tongue is in their mouth and the sweat gathering in their palms. The quiet is so powerful it seems to swallow even the creaking of the swinging bench. Or maybe the hook and chain were replaced recently, Jinki can’t bring themself to raise their head and check.

Key, like he always does, speaks up, “So, if we’re not meant to be together… why are we?”

They blink. “Um, I don’t, I don’t know. I just like being with you.”

He relaxes, letting out a chuckle. “I like being with you too, Jinks.”

**

Key spends the night after they talk on his own, but the next day he’s back in Jinki’s office with coffees for them both. Their conversation feels stilted, but it’s nice to look at Key again. It’s nice to be next to Key again, and when they part Key hugs them and that’s nice, too.

Key stays on campus until Jinki’s classes are done, then they go to Jinki’s apartment together and in the car he grabs their hand and presses it to his lips. Softly. Jinki kisses him on the lips in reply. They have sex inside and it’s slow, he moves so slowly and they keep an arm wrapped around him and Key keeps a steady, gentle pace and the whole time they’re so near each other it’s like they’re sharing one another’s breaths.

Jinki has had calm sex before, with Key and with others, but there’s something so different about this. The part of Jinki that has read too many books tells them that they’re making love, and he kisses them for so long they feel like he has stolen back all the love they made together and all that Jinki has ever had.

**

Jinki and Taeyeon are having lunch together later that week when Jinki asks,“Is it okay if I ask about Junghee?”

Taeyeon blinks, clearly surprised. “Uh, yeah, sure.” She scoops a final spoonful of mac and cheese past her lips.“Ask away.”

“I’m just wondering where she is,” replies Jinki.

“In her hometown. She’s working at a… a CVS, I think? As a cashier.”

“Is she going to come up here for the spring semester?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Taeyeon says with a shrug. “That was the original plan, but… things have changed.”

“What do you mean?”

“She slept with someone else.”

Jinki nearly drops thier fork. “W-what?”

“Yep. Back in June.”

“Who was it? And how did you find out?”

“A guy she went to school with. A week before he turned eighteen--so he hadn’t met his half yet. And she’s the one who told me.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yep. That happened. Her mom found out and she was not happy.”

“I can imagine why. She’s been pressing pretty hard for you and Junghee to get together since you guys met… but how are you feeling about it?”

Taeyeon rips apart her bread bowl. “I didn’t know what to think at first. Especially since she just up and told me. She felt guilty, I guess, but honestly? I just felt freed.”

“Freed?”

“Yeah, like I should get laid too.”

“To get back at her?”

“No. Maybe. I’m not sure. Just… if our relationship means so little to her that she would fuck someone else I think I should be able to do the same.”

“She did tell you though. Don’t you think that changes things?”

Taeyeon inhales. “I know you’re trying to help, Jinki, but she’s  _ my  _ half.”

“I know,” Jinki says, turning back to their food and wondering why they even asked about Junghee in the first place.

“What about you? Are things… different since Key’s told you about his half?”

“Not… yes, and no. No, he doesn’t treat me differently. Yes, when I look at myself beside him I think that Woohyun would look more beautiful at his side. But I have always felt that way.”

**

Fall comes full force in September. Key changes with the seasons, unfolding his jeans and trousers from a box he kept in his closet--their closet. He’s moved in now. He bought a second parking space for his own car. 

Jinki can’t help the fear that this is too fast. Don’t couples usually know each other for at least a year before they move in together? They have no idea.

Those couples probably already said “I love you” to each other. But most couples probably say that within a few weeks, right? Because they’re halves. It’s easy to know you’re in love with the person who literally completes you.

Jinki doesn’t even know if they love Key.

Because love has to be more than being happy to see Key in the morning. Love has to be more than making a reservation at an expensive restaurant on his birthday and getting him VIP concert tickets as a present. Love has to be more than wishing they could spend Saturdays together like a normal couple. Love has to be more than listening while Key rants about his half being moved to a different hospital an additional two hours away.

Love must be a physical thing. Love must burn brightly on their skin. Everyone should be able to see their love, like the Great Wall from space. It’s not supposed to be secret, it’s not just supposed to live within the walls of their apartment. Love should keep them connected no matter how far apart they are.

**

Jinki is in the middle of a lecture about the basic structure of a short story when a student, leaving most of their stuff behind, walks out the door and returns only a few seconds later. Face pale. They stare directly at Jinki, who looks back.

“Y-yes?”

The student, panicked, gestures for Jinki to approach. The class has gone quiet, so quiet they might be able to hear the student whisper to him: “There’s someone outside in the hallway, crying hysterically.”

“Oh,” Jinki mutters, the gears in their brain shifting into emergency mode. Okay, first they should get in contact with the student counseling office, the university police in case--

The pen they’d been using slips from their hands. It feels like only half a second, only a blink since they’ve swung open the classroom door. There’s a bench against the opposite wall and, on it, someone seated with their knees to their chest, head buried. Someone--Key.

Jinki rushes forward, gripping he shoulders. He gasps, shocked, but doesn’t respond otherwise. “Are you okay, Key? What happened?”

Mid-step, they stop and their heart does, too. All the breath leaves their lungs as Key raises his head, revealing a reddened face stained by tears. He gives a weak, false smile and lifts his left hand to show Jinki his heart string, which leads heavenward.

**

It wasn’t clear at this point what had or hadn’t happened. But something had gone wrong. Key didn’t clarify anything. “If they hadn’t fucking moved him, he’d be fine! Just fucking fine!”

Jinki learns quickly that the five stages of grief aren’t so much stages as they are a spiral staircase Key runs up and keeps falling down. In those first few hours alone there’s more tears spilled than Jinki has ever seen in their life and so many screamed curses Jinki fears their neighbors will complain. Once, Jinki holds Key close to their chest, unsure of what else to do, and for a few odd, blissful minutes Key’s exhausted body goes limp as he falls asleep (or passes out, maybe) only for him to wake to the same torrent of emotions.

It’s mostly swearing at Woohyun’s parents. First, for prompting the move, the apparent source of whatever had gone wrong. Then, because they didn’t contact Key directly about what happened. Despite the hours which pass and pass, not a word comes from them. He tries multiple times to reach out to them, but they waren’t thinking about him and, according to Key, they don’t care about him.

“I abandoned him, fuck me. Fuck me! They hate me because of it. They think I’m a fucking asshole. And even if I am one, I’m his fucking half, do you hear me? I’m his goddamn half!”

**

Key brings Jinki to the funeral three days later. They hang their black suits up in the backseat and begin the four hour car ride the day before.

Shortly after Key left Massachusetts, years ago, Woohyun’s parents did a similar but less dramatic move to a few hours west of where Woohyun grew up and had been hospitalized. Woohyun’s recent transfer had been to a hospital nearer to his parents, one which was apparently better equipped and (most important of all, in Key’s opinion) farther from Key.

“According to his parents, I betrayed him. I spent one year there, caring for him, waiting for something to happen. And then it didn’t. And I didn’t know what to do, so I left. I ran away, I guess.”

Jinki’s fingers close over his shoulder-strap. “You don’t have to tell me this, Key. It’s okay.”

Without moving his eyes from the road, Key shakes his head. “I do. I mean, I feel like I have to say this to  _ somebody _ , and you’re… you’re Jinki. I trust you.”

Jinki steels themself. “His parents never forgave you, I take it.”

“No. Once I came back to the US and got into the habit of visiting him on Saturdays, they fell into their own pattern of avoiding me at every turn. Then, they move him to make it harder for me, and they didn’t even tell me. I found out through an old-friend.”

“I don’t think I understand. Why would they turn against you? You were his half. Nothing would change that.”

“It was my job to stay there.” Key’s knuckles grow white against the wheel. “As his half. Shouldn’t I have stayed?”

“But what would you have done, Key? Just wait?” They breathe deeply. “Don’t beat yourself up for something that happened years ago.”

“I gave up on him. I gave up on Woohyun within that year. I’m a realistic person and whatever his parents have, whatever strength they have to have kept it up for so long and to have hated me, I don’t have. A day came when I was looking at him and he wasn’t looking back and I knew that if I didn’t leave I would be in the same place he was. Waiting for nothing to happen.”

He raises his hand to wipe a tear from his cheek. “I didn’t want to give up on my life, so I gave up on him instead.”

“I don’t think you gave up on anything, Key. You don’t seem like the type.”

Key chuckles, “what did I do then, oh wise one?”

“You just did what you thought you had to do,” says Jinki. “Then, when you came back… you went back to him. Like you’re supposed to, as his half.”

“That’s not exactly what I did, though.”

“What do you mean?”

He taps a disorganized rhythm on the steering wheel. “I went to you, Jinks. And you’re not my half.”

Jinki’s mouth goes dry. “No, I’m not.”

**

Jinki hasn’t been to a funeral since they were five, and that barely counts. It was their maternal grandmother’s funeral, and the sight of their mother, eyes red-rimmed and overflowing with tears, sent them into such a flurry of cries and confused screams it was decided it would be best if they waited out the event with their father in the church vestibule.

Honestly, they have half been expecting the sight of Key, holding back his tears, to make them react in much the same way. But they don’t.

They just feel wrong. So wrong.

Walking into the funeral home with Key holding onto their wrist, so tight it hurts. When they push open the doors, there’s only quiet. Has it always been quiet? Or has everyone suddenly lost all their words when Woohyun’s half walks in gripping someone else?

Maybe they don’t even know. They can’t know. They think Jinki is just a friend. Someone else who’s been through the same thing, another half without a half.

“Hey Key, Jinki, you made it.” Minho, Changmin behind him, rise from a bench against the wall and approach the pair. “How was the drive?”

“Alright,” says Key. He releases Jinki to hug Minho and Changmin, but then curls his hand back around their wrist. 

Changmin inhales deeply. “We’re sorry for your loss, Key.”

“If there’s anything we can do, let us know,” Minho adds.

“It’s alright. I’ve got Jinks I just want this to be over so we can go back home.”

Minho clears his throat. “You know, Key, you really don’t have to be here.”

Key stiffens. “I do. I have to be here.” He lifts his left hand, the upward heart string with it. “He’s my half.”

“Right,” says Changmin. “Come find us if y--”

“Key, please,” interrupts Minho. “You should leave.”

Key’s grip tightens around Jinki. “What are you saying?”

“Woohyun’s parents are going to kick you out if they see you. They said as much to Changmin and I earlier.”

Changmin pales. “It’s true. I’m so sorry, Key.”

“I have every right to be here.”

“But you don’t, Key. Not to them. They’re the ones Woohyun left to handle all of this, not you. They get the final say.”

“This isn’t fair.” Key’s voice is wavering and Jinki feels like their ribcage is shrinking.

“It’s not,” says Minho.

“Can I… can I at least go see him?”

“I’m not going to stop you. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

Key nods. “We’ll be fast.”

**

Woohyun doesn’t look dead, obviously, but he doesn’t look sick either. With makeup, string, and other tampering he just looks asleep; the normal type of asleep he’ll wake up from after just a few hours.

Jinki, though he has known Woohyun’s name for a while and a Facebook search would have more than easy, has never looked him up, never had any true idea of his appearance until now.

He’s not the same man Jinki saw in the mirror whenever they spent the night with Key: a chiseled adonis, masculinity and strength evident over his every inch. He isn’t large or imposing, but looks soft, fragile.

Key cries. Jinki thought they’d be used to it now.

They’re not.

Woohyun is Key’s half, with a matching upward string to prove it. Key is Key because of Woohyun, because of the red string that forced them together when they were just kids.

Key lets go of Jinki’s wrist and clings onto the edge of the casket instead to keep him steady.

**

What changes for Jinki is when they look into the mirror and they talk to themself.

_ Jinki--they reach for their toothbrush, then the toothpaste. It’s mint. Key uses charcoal and apparently it’s better for the environment or maybe it’s healthier but Jinki likes mint. They don’t remember the last time they brushed their teeth next to Key in the morning, both still weary from sleep and Jinki resting their head on Key’s shoulder. _

Or

_ Key is next to them and his eyes are red-rimmed and he looks awful, so fucking god-awful and Jinki feels like their heart is bleeding. They watch Key as he cleanses his face then stares up at himself in the mirror and sniffles, and Jinki wonders what the fuck they should do. How the fuck they’re supposd to comfort their boyfriend whose half just died. _

Or

_ Jinki is walking past the bathroom when they see in the corner of their eye, watching himself dead-on in the mirror like he’s waiting for his own reflection to strike him. Suddenly Key’s eyes move away and onto Jinki’s, and he softens, straightens, and turns back on his heel. _

“Hi,” Key says.

“Hi. How are you?”

“I’m okay.” He closes the distance between them and lifts a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Jinki’s ear. “You’re pretty.”

They blush. “Thank you… are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be alright. I just missed you, that’s all.”

_ I miss you too,  _ they want to say. Fuck, Jinki wants to say it, looking down at Key with his beautiful eyes and his lips that are so familiar and his hands reaching and grasping Jinki’s wrists. But they can’t say it, they can’t say anything, because Key is someone else’s half and maybe this sadness and this misery is what Key is destined to feel and Jinki is just getting in the way.

**

“I don’t know how you’re used to this,” Key sighs once, while he and Jinki are preparing dinner together. Resting the knife down on the cutting board beside the vegetables he’d been chopping, Key pulls at his heart string. “It always feels like it’s in the way.”

Jinki, carefully measuring out uncooked grains of rice to place in the rice cooker, shrugs. “It’s like wearing glasses, isn’t it? You just learn to block it out.” They turn to the sink and, with equal precision, fill a measuring glass. “I don’t know how you lived with one going down, dragging behind you all the time.”

He frowns. “It’s light, Jinks. And thin. It never got in the way.”

“But they get tangled. I’ve seen students have to basically dance around each other to undo knots and it’s practically a safety hazard in crowds.” Jinki places the plastic bowl into the rice cooker and starts it. “You won’t even notice it soon enough.”

He twists his wrist, wrapping the string a few times around his fingers, and stares at it. “I don’t like it.”

They lean against the counter. “It’s your heart string, Key. It’s not going away.”

“It should. I don’t even know why it’s still here. It’s in the way.”

“You just need to get used--”

“That’s not what I mean.” Key shakes his head. “Mentally it’s in the way, not physically. It’s this constant reminder in my vision of my friend who’s… who’s died, so it’s not helping me recover from that because I’m constantly reminded of it. And it’s also a literal tie between me and… and someone else.”

“By someone else, you mean your own half?”

Key sighs. “I knew you wouldn’t--”

“Key, you do realize  _ I’m  _ the someone else, right?”

“Let’s not do this, please.”

“I’m not your half, Key.”

He unwinds the string from his fingers. “Yeah, I know.”

“You’re not meant to be with me.”

“Oh my god.” Key whips about on his heel to face Jinki. “You don’t make any sense, you know that, right?” Before Jinki can respond, he continues: “Just weeks ago you were telling me that it was just okay that I left Woohyun, that I had a right not to give up on my life just because of him, and now we’ve moved backward--that I’m not allowed to live without him anymore.”

Jinki wraps their arms protectively over their chest. “I just want you to be happy, Key.”

“I almost believe you,” he says. “If you told me this before Woohyun… I would have believed you. Yeah, you want me to be happy, but the truth is: you don’t think I can be anymore. Because I’m like you now. And Jinki isn’t allowed to be happy because their half is gone.”

Jinki’s heart falls. 

Key reacts first, his face draining in color: “Jinki, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“You meant it though,” Jinki says. “It’s not like I’m surprised that you think that way about me. It’s always been clear to me that we haven’t had the same perspective on halves, or on our relationship.”

Quiet. Then, Key, choked-up like the silence is caught in his throat: “I just want to be with you, Jinki. And I want us both to be happy.”

“I don’t think we can.” Jinki pushes themself from the counter. “I’m gonna go.”

Key shakes his head. “No, please stay for a minute.”

“I’m going to let you think this through. And I’ll do the same.”

As they walk past Key on their way to the door, he suddenly grabs their wrist and pulls them toward him.

“Jinki,” he breathes into their ear, placing a hand on the small of their back to press them close. “I love you.”

The words slide over Jinki’s skin and drip into their veins, send what feels like cosmic vibrations throughout their entire body. They feel like all the stars in the sky are singing in their blood, that their heart is thrumming with the vibrations of the entire universe. “I love you too,” they whisper.

Then they pull away and Key’s arms fall limply to his side and he watches as Jinki leaves.

**

The thought of calling Taeyeon does not cross Jinki’s mind until they are standing in front of her apartment door, rapping their knuckles against the wood.

Thankfully, she’s home, as the door swings open and reveals Taeyeon wearing an oversized tee, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. “Jinks?” she says, surprised. “What are you doing here all of a sudden?”

“I, uh, I wanted to talk to you.” They run a hand through their hair, nervous. “If now’s a bad time I can--”

Taeyeon shakes her head. “No, I’m making now a good time. You look awful.” She retreats back a step and waves Jinki in. They follow, but stall almost immediately when they notice someone sitting on the couch in Taeyeon’s living room.

“Jinks, this is Victoria.” Victoria waves half-heartedly, her face confused. “Victoria, this is my friend Jinki.”

“Hi,” says Victoria.

“Would you mind… waiting in the bedroom for us?” Victoria’s eyes raise in surprise, so Taeyeon back-pedals. “I mean, Jinki and I have to talk about something. Privately.”

The confusion may still be obvious on her face, but she nods and retreats into Taeyeon’s bedroom, leaving the two alone. “Who was that?”

“We take a dance class together. I worked up the courage to ask her out and… yeah. We just finished with our class and we were picking out a place to have dinner together.”

“You asked someone out?”

“Yep. Turns out her half is a dude and she is  _ not  _ into that.”

“Wow.”

Taeyeon chuckles. “Yeah, the gays are everywhere.”

“Not that. I’m shocked that she… doesn’t have the right half, I guess.”

“Like me?”

Jinki shrugs. “I guess.”

She gestures Jinki toward the couch. They sit across from one another, Taeyeon drawing up one of her legs to perch on her knee. “You know,” she begins. “Junghee had the right idea.”

“Junghee?”

“I mean, she was definitely wrong about some things. She was wrong about your gender, obviously, and she was wrong to get upset with you about dating Key, but she ended up changing her mind about that.”

“You’ve talked with her about me?”

“No, not exactly. But we did talk about her and what she did. You know, having sex with that guy, and why she just went and told me about it.” She pulls at her collar. “She just didn’t want to be like her dad.”

“But she did the same thing he did. She cheated on her half.”

“Yeah, she admitted she should have told me about it before, but… she didn’t want to be miserable like he was, and then hurt people because of that. She just wanted to be happy.”

Jinki frowns. “I’ve heard that word too much today.”

Taeyeon reaches toward them and takes Jinki hand in hers. “Jinki, honestly, do you think I could be happy if I was married to a straight girl?”

They look into their eyes and shake their head.

“Is it be fair for me to have a straight girl as a half when other people get to have the relationship they want?”

“Lots of things aren’t fair, Tae.”

“I know that,” she says with a sigh. “And a lot of those things--things that either come fair or unfair--you can’t help. No one can help what lot they get. But that doesn’t mean that I have to keep hurting myself over and over again just because of that unfair thing. I don’t have to torture myself. That’s not my job.

“The world fucked me when it made Junghee my half, and it fucked her over, too. But, instead of just being miserable, Junghee went and got what she wanted. I was pushing her in a direction she didn’t want, just by being me, and her mother was pushing her and the world was pushing her, so she just got off the track she had been on since birth. She’s making her own path now, one she gets to decide and one where she has an equal right to being happy as other people do.”

“Then what’s the point of it? Of halves? If you, Victoria, Junghee, Junghee’s dad and so many other people get the wrong ones, what’s the point?”

Taeyeon shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Do you?”

“Halves are supposed to complete us. That’s the whole point. That’s why their called halves. We’re broken and they fix us.”

“So you’re broken, Jinks?”

They nod.

“What broke you?”

“I was born broken. We all are. We’re human. We have halves.”

Taeyeon’s grip tightens. “Do you think… maybe Junghee fixed me by leaving?”

“Hmm?”

“Maybe halves aren’t always supposed to get married and raise kids, maybe they’re not always supposed to be romantic relationships. Maybe they’re not supposed to fix us--but, even if they are, maybe they’re allowed to do it in different ways.

“You’re here, right now, because of your half, Jinki. You met Key because of your half. And Key is the person he is today because of his half, and maybe that’s all they were meant to do.” Taeyeon cards a hand through her hair. “And maybe you and Key aren’t meant to be together, I don’t know that, obviously, but… what do you think about him?”

“About Key?”

“Yeah.”

Jinki inhales audibly. “I’m in love with him.”

Taeyeon’s grip grows so tight Jinki’s bones might break. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe that’s all that matters, Jinks.”

“What if it’s not? What if the fact I’m broken gets in the way? What if I can’t be happy? What if I can’t make him happy?”

She releases her hand and all the blood rushes to their fingers so quickly it hurts. “Can you believe in love like you believe in halves? If you do that, you can believe in you and Key.”

**

When Jinki arrives back at their apartment, it’s dark. The kitchen has been cleaned up, the dishes they’d been using for dinner are waiting in the rack, already dry and ready to be put away. They peer into the fridge and find the stir-fry, finished and wrapped up, but it doesn’t look like Key ate anything either.

Jinki’s heart sinks even deeper as they near the bedroom door. There’s no light slipping through the cracks. Jinki begins to wonder where Key could have gone when the door opens and they’re suddenly in his arms.

“I was worried about you,” Key breathes. He stiffens, suddenly, and begins to pull away. “S-sorry.”

“No,” says Jinki, pulling him back. They’re so close they can feel Key’s heartbeat against theirs. “I’m sorry.”

Key sighs, resting his chin on Jinki’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I know you needed some time.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Jinki inhales. “I don’t know if I can think ahead like you can.”

“Hmm?” Key pulls away a bit, but not out of Jinki’s arms. Jinki won’t let him--just far enough that they can look at each other in the eyes.

“I don’t know what I want to do five years from now.”

“I know that.”

“I don’t know if I ever want to go abroad. I’ve never thought about anything outside of Massachusetts.” 

Key chuckles softly. “I know that too.”

“I can’t think about anything other than what’s in front of me.”

“I know.”

“You’re in front of me.”

“Right now I am, yes.”

“I want you to be happy.”

He smiles, reaching up a hand to cup Jinki’s cheek. “I will be. I know what I like, I know what I want.”

“I’d never thought about happiness until I met you. It was never in front of me. I thought I’d missed out on it. So I want to make you happy. I want you to be happy, and I want to experience the things that make you happy and find what will make me happy. With you. Next to me.”

“I like that. I want to be next to you.”

“Good… I like… I… I love you, Key.”

“You already said that,” Key mumbles.

“Can I say it again? I never thought I’d be able to say it to anyone.”

He smiles broadly. “I love you, Jinki.”

“I love you, Key. Now, um, could you kiss me?”

“So you’d be happy if I kissed you?”

They nod. “Yes. That would make me happy.”

Key kisses all the love out of them and Jinki kisses it all back into themself and they feel warm, like the sun is shining in their chest and all the stars in their veins have exploded.

**

“K-Key, they just called our boarding group.” Jinki shakes Key’s shoulder more violently than they should. “We should get in line, right? We need to get on the plane.”

Key looks up from his phone, scans the gate, then frowns. “We can wait a bit, Jinks. Look at that line.” He points toward the mass of people that curves from the boarding desk and across the entire gate. “We could either wait in that mess, or wait sitting down. Either way, we’re waiting.”

Jinki releases Key’s shoulder and sighs. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

Key squeezes their knee. “It’s alright. But I’m an experienced flyer. You don’t have to worry about a thing while I’m here.” He shoves his phone into his jeans pocket and moves his backpack into his lap and gives it a pat. “I’ve got eye masks, battery packs, ear plugs, extra copies of our hotel address, snacks--we’re all taken care of. Everything hard we’ve already done, so you can relax.”

They wipe sweat from their brow. “I should’ve had a drink before this.”

“You’ll be fine, as soon as we get into our seats you’ll relax. We’ll pop on a movie and I’ll braid your hair, hmm?” He reaches his hand back to play with Jinki’s small ponytail--a very recent development, as it was only last week that their hair had become long enough to be pulled back like that. “You’re supposed to have fun on this trip, Jinks. You’ve been stressed enough with your dissertation, Dr. Lee, so you’re going to relax. Leave all the hard stuff to me.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into going to fucking Greece.”

Key laughs. “I think you’re excited beneath all this anxiety. Think about it: it’s so beautiful everywhere you look you’re going to think it could be a postcard. And the food is delicious. And we’re going to swim in an ocean so beautiful you won’t believe it’s real, and our hotel room has a deep-soaker.”

“Why go in a bath to soak if the ocean’s right there?”

Key lowers his voice. “So we can have sex in the bathtub, obviously.”

“O-oh. That… I don’t know how well that will work.”

He shrugs. “Me neither, but we’ll give it a shot.” He rises from his seat and slings his bag over his shoulder. “The line’s almost gone now, so let’s go.”

Obedient, they follow Key to the line, pulling their passport from their pocket, the plane ticket sticking out from it on both sides. As they near the desk, Key urges them forward, watching over them with a protective eye as they hand the documents to the steward, who scans the ticket and hands both back to them.

“Have a nice flight, Mr. Lee.”

Jinki’s mouth goes dry. “Actually, it’s Mx..”

The steward doesn’t hesitate. “My apologies, Mx. Lee.”

Jinki waits for a moment on the other side of the desk for Key to get through. “Look at you!” Key sing-songs, looping an arm through Jinki’s. “Correcting people! How did it feel?”

“I don’t know,” they reply. “But I like Mx. a lot more than Mr..”

Jinki has the window seat and Key the middle--even though it’s less comfortable, Key didn’t even present sitting apart as an option. He shoves his backpack beneath the seat in front of him after emptying it some necessities, including well-used legal pad.

“What are you writing?”

“An essay,” says Key. “A non-fiction creative essay.”

“About what?”

“This trip versus the last time I went to Greece. My journey--the journey of a man from rebellious, angry teen into… whatever I am now, I guess.” He taps his pen against his lip.

Jinki can’t hold back a smile. “So you suggested this trip just to have something to write about?”

He snickers. “No, that’s just a coincidence. I suggested this because I love Greece and I want to show it to you.” He lifts the arm rest between them and leans toward Jinki. “You want to see the things that make me happy, right?”

They nod. “I do.”

“I think this will make you happy too, Jinks. And we can take some stereotypical picture near the top of the mountain, with the city sprawling beneath us.”

“I think I’d rather just watch you write, or drink coffee, or stumble through a conversation in Greek.”

Key’s eyes light up. “Yeah?”

Jinki takes hold of Key’s hand, his left. They entwine their fingers and reach out with their free hand toward the string, pulling it forward and spinning it a few times around the latch that releases the tray.

He laughs. “You know I’m going to have to open that eventually.”

“I know. I just didn’t want it in the way right now. Between us.”

“Woohyun is such a cockblock.” Key laughs. “But he’s just looking out for me. He’s a good friend.”

“A good half.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“Am I a good enbyfriend?”

“You’re all right,” he jokes. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“So are you. Lucky, I mean.”

Key leans against their chest. “I already knew that.”

**Author's Note:**

> everyone listen to 'tiny love' by MIKA bc it came out today and it kinda fits this fic and i love mika and key and jinki's love might be tiny, might not be destiny, but it's there's uwu
> 
> thanks for reading lmfao not sure if i'll write anything else in fandom bc i need to get a job and focus on my job and original works but LMAO i did set up a ko-fi so if u liked this fic, like my old stuff, appreciate all of the translations, fan accounts and other content i have uploaded and shared with shinee fandom (those 3 full concert recordings of jjong's 2015 agit? brought to u by urs truly) consider,,, buying me a coffee? If you'd like a commission or something or if u just want me to continue writing fic for this fandom the best way is to send me that kofi and also just straight up message me lmao bc uh.... i feel like no one in fandom knows me/cares anymore lmfao.
> 
> anyway my ko-fi: https://ko-fi(.)com/professorjjong
> 
> love u all. look for love everywhere. if u want love, u deserve it <3


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